NO PLAYS EXCHANGED 




'Baker's Edition 

ST PL71Y3 




a 



The Pride of Company G 




COPYRIGHT, 1S89, CY WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 



piays for /Amateur Sfyeatrieals. 

BY GEORGE 7V^. BKKER, 

Autlior of " Amateur Dramas" "The Mimic Stage" "The Social Stage" "The Drawing- 
Room Stage'' "Handy Dramas," "The Exhibition Dramas" "A Baker's Dozen" etc. 

Titles hi tliis Type are Ne^r Plnys. 

Titles in this Type are Temperance Plays. 



DRAMAS. 

Iti Fojir A cts. 
Better than Gold. 7 male, 4 female 



char. 



In Three A cts. 
our F'tllcs. 6 male, 5 female char. 
The Flower of the Family. 5 

male, 3 female char 

Em isted for the War. 7 male, 3 fe- 
male char 

My Brother's Keeper. 5 male, 3 fe- 
male char. . . . 

Th* JAttie llrown tiny. 5 male, 3 
female char. ......... 

In Two A cts. 
Above the Cloud*. 7 male, 3 female 



char. 



One Hundred Years Ago. 7 male, 
4 female char 

Among the Breakers. 6 male, 4 female 
char 

Bread on the Waters. 5 male, 3 female 
char . . 

Down by the Sea. 6 male, 3 female 
char • 

Once on a Time. 4 male, 2 female char. 

The L,ast L,oaf. 5 male, 3 female char. 



In One A ct. 
.stand by the Fi.ag. 5 male char. . . 
The Tempter. 3 male, 1 female char. 

COMEDIES AND FARCES. 

A Mysterious Disappearance. 4 

male, 3 female char 

Paddle Your Own Canoe. 7 male 

3 female char. . , 

A Drop too MncJi. 4 male, % female 



:har 



A Little More Cider. 5 male, 3 fe- 
male char. „ 

A Thorn Among the Roses. 2 male, 6 
female char 

Never ^ay Die. 3 male, 3 female char. 

Seeing the Elephant. 6 male, 3 female' 
char. 

Thk Boston Dip. 4 male, 3 female char. 

The Duchess of Dublin. 6 male, 4 fe- 
male char • " • 

Thirty Minutes for Refreshments. 
4 male, 3 female char t 

We're all Teetotalers. 4 male, 2 fe- 
male char 

Male Characters Only. 
A Close Shave, ft char. ...... 

A. Public Benefactor. 6 char. . . . 

A Sea of Troubles. 8 char. .... 



COMEDIES, etc., continued. 

Male Characters Only. 
A Tender Attachment. 7 char. . . 
Coals of Fire. 6 char. . . . , . . 
'Freedom of the Press. S char. . . . 
Shall Our Mother* Yot«-? 11 char. 
Gentlemen of thk Jury. 12 char. . . 
Humors of the Strike. 8 char. . . . 
My Uncle the Captain. 6 char. . . . 
New Brooms Sweep Clean. 6 char. 

The Great Elixir. 9 char 

The Hypochondriac. 3 char 

lhe Man with the Demijohn. 4 

char • 

The Runaways. 4 char 

The Thief of Time. 6 char 

Wanted, a Male Cook. 4 char. . . • 

Female Characters Only. 

A Love of a Bonnet. 5 char 

A Precious Pickle. 6 char 

No Cure No Pay, 7 char 

The Champion of Her Sex. 8 char. 
The Greatest Plague in Life. 8 char. 

The Gkbcian Bend. 7 char 

The Red Chignon. 6 char. 

Using the Weed. 7 char 

ALLEGORIES. 

A rrangedfor Mttsic and Tableaux. 

Lighthart's Pilgrimage. 8 female 
char. . . . o 

Thb Revolt of the Bees. 9 female 
char o 

The Sculptor's Triumph, i male. 4 fe- 
male char. .......... 

The Tournament of Idylcourt. 10 fe- 
male char. . .* . 

The War of the Roses. 8 female char. 

The Voyage of Life. 8 female char. 

MUSICAL AND DRAMATIC. 

An Original Idea, i male, r female 

Bonbons; or, the Paint King. 6 male, 
i female char . 

Capuletta; or, Romeo and Juliet 
Restored. 3 male, 1 female char. 

Santa Claus' Frolics. 

Snow-bound; or, Alonzo the Brave, 
and the Fair Imogene. 3 maie, 1 
female char. '. 

The Merry Christmas of the Old 
Woman who Lived in a Shoe. . . . 

The Pedler of Very Nice. 7 male 
char. ...... 

The Seven Ages. A Tableau Entertain- 
ment. Numerous male and female char. 

Too Late for the Train. 2 male char. 

The Visions of Freedom, i i female 
char. . . ■. 



WALTER H. BAKER & CO., 23 Winter St., Boston. 



THE 

PRIDE OF COMPANY G 



OR 



THE VOLUNTEERS 



% 55® ar ©rama in Qfytzt 3cis 



BYV 

DAVID HILL 

AUTHOR OF "FORCED TO THE WAR," " OUT OF HIS SPHERE," " PLACER GOLD, 

*' BOUND BY AN OATH," " THE GRANGER," " JOINING THE 

TINPANITES," ETC. 



THIS 'BOOK IS THE PROPERTY OF ) (rfff)** 



to whom the right to perform the play has been given by the 
author. It is not published, but printed as manuscript 
only, and all parties are hereby cautioned not to attempt 
its production on the stage without due authority from the 
author's agents, WALTER H. BAKER & CO., No. 23 
Winter Street, Boston, Mass. 









CHARACTERS 



JOHN BOSWORTH 
FRANK BOSWORTH 
AMASA NOGOOD 
PARSON GOODWINK 
BARNEY RYAN 
TOM DICKSON 
JOE | 
JIM / 

FIRST SOLDIER 
SECOND SOLDIER 
HESTER NOGOOD 
GRATIA GOODWINK 
BRIDGET McFLING 



An Old Soldier 

His Son, and Captain of Co. G 

The Hunchback 

. A Superannuated Minister 

The Brave Irishman — in a horn 

. . A Hero in Disguise 

. Two Urchins 



Mother of the " Hunchback " 

Daughter of Parson Goodxvink 

. A Girl of All Work 



Soldiers, Musicians, Crowd, etc. 




Copyright, 1892, by Walter H. Baker & Co. 



T HP96 



^0Q6^ 3 



SYNOPSIS. 

ACT I. — A village common. Interview between Barney and 
Bridget. "O Barney, are yeez going to the war?" The stolen 
kiss. Dickson kills a mosquito. Why he didn't enlist. " What's 
the use of steppin 1 in t' a bear-trap, an' losin 1 a foot, when you kin 
step over it." John Bosworth and the parson. The parson's 
bravery. " I declare ! I believe at this moment I could fire a mus- 
ket myself." The volunteer company short one man. The hunch- 
back. " Company G wants no cripples." Amasa pleads his own 
case. " Better to be hunchbacked and brave, than an Apollo and 
a coward." He shows his strength and superior marksmanship. 
Refused. The volunteers. How Dickson joined Company G. 
Gratia and Amasa. Frank Bosworth, the captain of Company G. 
Amasa's request and how it was accepted. " Now shall it be known 
that I, the hunchbacked, the discarded, the pitied and unfortunate, 
can be of service to my country." 

ACT II. — A Union camp. " Say, fellers, what's the penalty for 
being a skulker?" Barney an arrant coward. Dickson a brave 
soldier. Tough yarns. John Bosworth, Parson Goodwink, Gratia, 
and Mrs. Nogood visit the camp. More yarns. "A soldier with- 
out a joke is like a gun without a trigger." Barney gets a letter. 
The parson's opinion of soldiers. "I declare! I never realized be- 
fore how rude a soldier can be." Something up. " Fall in, Com- 
pany G. Fall in ! " How the parson made himself fierce. The 
battle. John Bosworth excited. "Egad! give me a regiment of 
weeping soldiers and I'll conquer an army." The advance and re- 
treat. Death of the color-bearers. Amasa supports the flag. Dick- 
son to the front, followed by Amasa and Frank Bosworth. Fall of 
the rebel flag. How Amasa unfurled the stars and stripes over the 
rebel ramparts. Shot. "He throws up his arms — he totters — 
he is falling backward." Return of the soldiers. " Make room for 
the hero ! Make room for Amasa Nogood ! " Amasa brought in 
upon a litter, and covered with the U.S. flag. John Bosworth 
speaks. "With another company to organize, I'd accept men of 
your mould if they were crooked as the bow of heaven." Act closes 
with tableau. 

ACT III. — The village lawn. John Bosworth and the parson. 
" I would strongly advocate that war be conducted without blood- 
shed if possible." — "Egad! a warfare conducted without blood- 
shed would be a novelty, that's a fact." The baked ox. Barney and 
Bridget. Return of Company G. The grand ovation. Joe and 



4 SYNOPSIS. 

Jim. Whose father was the bravest. " My dad had seventeen 
bullets shot through his coat in the fust battle." — "So did mine. 
'N'e he killed four rebels arter his arm wus shot off." A rough-and- 
tumble fight. Joe and the tramp. How Amasa died in Libby 
Prison. The decorated seat. The tramp an object of suspicion. 
"Egad! why didn't you enlist?" Refused. Why? "I was de- 
formed." General excitement. "Man, stand up. My God! the 
grave has yielded up its dead. This weak, tottering, emaciated 
skeleton is Amasa Nogood." A grand termination. Act closes 

With : THE STAR SPANGLED BANNER. 



THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 



ACT I. 



Scene. — A landscape back representing piece of open ground, or 
common, with wings to match. A sutler's tent l. 3 E., sur- 
rounded with boxes, barrels, bottles, etc. Barney a?nong them 
placing things in order as curtain rises. 

Barney. Shure it's knives and forks, camp kettles, tin coffee- 
cups, axes, and double blankets that's dumped here by the cart-load, 
and me own swate self to look afther the whole kit and caboodle. 
Not a cint paid for it aythur, and the goods a-rolling in loike dollars 
into the hands of a ticket-seller at a big circus. Och ! it's a moighty 
quare proceeding, Oi kin tell yeez. Here it's meself what's running 
a sutler's tent loike a free show ; for, d'ye moind, there's not a cint 
comes over the counter. Everything free as spring wather, and 
given by as noble a class of men as iver graced the soil of a north- 
ern republic. (Looking off R.) By me sowl ! here comes me own 
swate Bridget. Look at her now, the swate craychure ! coming to 
wape tears for her poor Barney what's going to die a soldier — if he 
can't kape back in the rear. 

Bridget {enters lie., and crosses to tent) . O Barney, are yeez 
going to the war? 

Bar. Yes, Bridget ; Oi'm going to die foighting for the nagurs. 

Bridget. I can niver stand it to have yeez leave me, Barney. 
But yeez do look fine in them soldier's clothes now, sure enough. 

Bar. Oi'm glad to hear yeez say that, me darlint ; and, by me 
sowl Oi kin say the same by your own swate self. 

Bridget. O Barney ! I'm not dressed in soldier's clothes at 
all, at all. 

Bar. Och ! but it's your faychurs of which Oi'm spaking. By 
me sowl ! yeez are a second Vanus — so far as the Vanus is discern- 
ible. Oi wouldn't moind kissing of yeez for fear of what moight 
happen. 

Bridget {pushing him back) . Go away wid ye ! The soldiers 
might see yeez. 

Bar. Divil take the soldiers when they step between me and a 
kiss. Yeez kin see thim across the field there, preparing to drill 

5 



6 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 

under the command of our young captain, Frank Bosworth, God 
bless him ! Can yeez see thim, me darlint? {She shades her eyes 
and looks off C. R.) 

Bridget. Yis, I can see them — (Barney steals up behind 
and kisses her. She slaps hi?n in the face.} Take that, wid my 
compliments. 

Bar. {retreats l. holding on to his face). O Bridget! Bridget! 
it's kilt Oi am entoirly. Think of your poor Barney dead and cold 
upon the field of battle wid nothing to ate — 

Bridget {coming toward hint) . O Barney, I didn't mean it. 

Bar. {continumg). And the bullets whistling around him — 

Bridget. O Barney ! Barney ! 

Bar. And no one to whisper a tinder word into his listening ear. 

Bridget. Barney, yeez can kiss me again if yeez have a 
mind to. 

Bar. Begorra! Oi'd be a fool if Oi didn't. {Kisses her.*) Shure, 
that is as swate as nectar in a bowl of punch. Now sit down, me 
darlint, and Oi'll tell yeez all about the volunteers, and a beautiful 
set of boys they are, too, Oi kin tell yeez. {They sit on box in front 
of tent.) 

Bridget. Yeez are self-concaited, Barney. 

Bar. Self-concaited, is it? Shure, don't Oi know ivery one of 
thim to begintlemen? Begorra ! Oi'm one of thim meself. Well, 
yeez recollect John Bosworth, the father of our young captain? 

Bridget. Can I forget him, Barney? Blustering and bragging 
as he always is, and talking about charging, and firing, and skir- 
mishing, and " stand-up-and-take-your-physic," till I dream of 
swords and guns the whole night long. . 

Bar. Arrah ! he's a brave man, is Bosworth, and no mishtake. 
He's fit wid the Mexicans and Injins, and now, being so ould he 
can't foight, he started a paper for a company of volunteers, wid the 
result that nointy-noine have attached their names, including me 
own beautiful self. 

Bridget. And how many is wanted, Barney? 

(Tom Dickson enters unperceived l. 3 e., back of tent. He is 
dressed in citizen 's clothes, looks shiftless, and is whittling stick. He 
seats himself upon box down stage unnoticed, and continues whit- 
tling.) 

Bar. Jist one more would make the thing complayte ; but rake 
the whole country over, and they fail to foind the hundredth man. 

Bridget. And why don't they take Amasa Nogood? 

Bar. Shure, his deformity kapes him out. Wouldn't his hump- 
back spoil the alignment whin the young captain called " atten- 
tion," " eyes right " or "left?" Ivery man of Company G is as 
perfect as a king's body-guard. Oh, it's too bad! too bad ! for 
Amasa is a good lad, so he is. 

Bridget. Yis, and a good shot, too, and quick and strong, if 



THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 7 

he is hunchbacked. But the soldiers are all yonder. Why are you 
not with thim, Barney? 

Bar. Shure, wasn't Oi appointed to guard this stuff? Didn't 
Parson Goodwink start out w-id orders from the captain to buy 
what the company naded, and divil a cint would anybody take? 
Didn't they hand him back his bills reeayted, and thin haul the 
boxes here until they resimbled a small mountain? Shure Oi'm a 
sutler, or commissary sargent, or something loike that, anyhow. 

Bridget. Whin do yeez start for the South, Barney? 

Bar. In the morning by first train. Yeez may niver see me 
again, Bridget. 

Bridget. Don't mintion it, Barney. Keep in the rear, and 
dodge the bullets. 

Bar. Arrah ! Company G has no stragglers. If Oi'm foind in 
the rear it will be for a raysun. {Aside.) And Oi'll foind a raysun 
if Oi have to take physic. {Aloud.) Now, me darlint, jhust an- 
other shot from the battery of your swate lips before the inimy takes 
possession of the fort. 

Bridget. Are yeez asking for another kiss, Barney? 

Bar. Shure and Oi was that, and in the language of a soldier. 
How did yeez guess it so aisily? {Putting his ami around her.) 
Are yeez willing, me darlint? The brave boys are not looking, God 
bless 'em ! no, they're not. 

Bridget {bashfully) . Yeez can do as you have a moind, Barney. 

Bar. Do yeez mane that, Bridget? Thin Oi'll unite me forces 
and engage the inimy at close quarters. {Starts to kiss her.) 

Dickson {striking box sharp blow witfi board which he has been 

whittling) . Bang ! 

Bridget ) ,. , 7 , • , N f Oh ! 

Bar. \ (together -jumpingup) . £ Hdy gt patrick , what , s 

up? 

Dick. Another muskeeter squelched, that's all. Blast 'em! 
they'd chaw a man up quicker'n a tramp a plug o' t'backer. 

Bridget. Shure I thought a battle had started. 

Bar. {sorrowfully). Begorra ! Oi'm thinking the battle is ended, 
and widout a shot being fired, aythur. 

Dick. Musketeers here, though, ain't nuthin' compared t' 'em 
in Alaska. Why, look a-here. {Crosses one leg over the other, and 
motions with his hands.) Hitch a dog t 1 a tree in eny part of thet 
infernal kentry, an' th' muskeeters '11 eat 'm up 'n less 'n twenty 
mi nits. Yes, sir-ee clean t' th' rope. Make reg'lar spoon vittles of 
'em, too, an' sigh fer more. Durned ef they wouldn't stack 'em- 
selves up like haycocks so's t' shed th' water when it rained ! Never 
associate 'ith an Alaska muskeeter unless you've got cheek. 

Bar. Begorra ! Oi should say the less cheek a man had the 
betther. Say ! did yeez iver see the mosquitoes we have in ould 
Ireland? 

Dick. Can't say's I ever did. 

Bar. Well, sor, they're jhust loike thim in Alaska, wid this 



8 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 

addition. Hitch the same dorg to a tree over there, and they'd 
ate him clean to the rope, and thin ate the rope to digest the dorg. 
That's jhust the difference, ye see. 

Dick. Shake. {They shake hands.') Durned ef thet suit don't 
make you look as purty as a pink. Say ! why don't you fellers wait 
till you're drafted, instead o' rootin' your heads inter danger afore 
you're obleeged t'. 

Bar. Shure, and didn't the ould captain want a company of 
volunteers ? And hasn't he got thim, too, as noble a set of boys 
as iver handled a musket? Oi'm one of thim, your honor. The 
company is complate wid jhust the exception of one man. 

Bridget. Mr. Dickson should make the hundredth man, Barney. 
He would look foine dressed up in soldier's clothes all trimmed with 
brass buttons. 

Bar. Begorra! he'd ruther sit on a fence and whittle, loike a 
Maine Yankee. Jhust the "spatt!" or " w-e-e-e-e-p ! " of a bullet 
would turn him white as a shate, and make him shake until ivery 
tooth drapped out of his head. 

Dick. Ya-as ; an' while I wus shiverin' an' shakin' like a beech 
leaf in a March wind, an' facin' th' enemy, you'd be scootin' fer th' 
rear et a double quick. Give me a shakin' hero t' a braggin' coward 
every day in th' week. 

Bar. If yeez are so brave why don't yeez join the volunteers? 
Shure, yeez have been asked toims enough. 

Dick. Well, I refuse fer prudential reasons. D'yr think I want 
t' stand as target fer a rebel battery fer th' sake o' havin' my remains 
gathered up in a bushel basket? I ain't so doggoned foolish. 

Bar. Thin get a permit to remain in camp, play checkers, draw 
back pay, and be forgotten by the War Department. Begorra ! 
Oi'm thinking it would suit yeez betther thin charging bayonets wid 
the inimy in front. 

Dick. It ud be more preferable t' shovelin' dirt, or shiverin' 'ith 
ague on a Cairo bottom, I'll admit. I say, let well enough alone. 
There's time enough t' digest hard tack an' cold lead when you're 
obleeged t 1 . What's th' use, I say, of steppin' inter a bear-trap, 
an' losin' a foot, when you kin step over it — hey? It's too much 
like followin' th' example o' Solomon Fearful when his neighbor's 
children hed th' small-pox. 

Bar. Shure, and how was that ? 

Dick. Well, Solomon Fearful hed seven children, as healthy as 
cubs, an 7 as bright as pewter buttons. Somehow, ef eny kind o' 
malaria or contagious disease swept over th' kentry, it jest left 
Fearful's children alone, an' gobbled up all th' rest. In this way 
they hed escaped th' itch, measles, mumps, yaller-fever an' canker- 
rash, an' ud have knocked the spots out of small-pox but fer th' 
durndest bit o' foolishness Fearful ever did. 
, Bar. Shure, and what did Fearful do? 

Dick. Well, jest as th' disease wus a whooperin' around th' 
hardest, an' wus a-takin off about every two out o' five it attacked, 



THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 9 

Fearful grew scairt, an' says t' his wife, says he, "Maria, we're 
booked this time, fersartin. Now I reckon we'd better waxinate 
th' hull lot, an' by so doin 1 , avoid a terrible catastrophe. 11 So they 
got a hunk o 1 virus an 1 went at it. 

Bridget. And what was the result? 

Dick. Four o 1 th 1 children died 'ith varioloid, an 1 tother three 
wus sick fer six months. 

{Enter l. i e., John Bosworth, Parson Goodwink, Gratia, 
Hester Nogood, and others. The ladies pass up r. u. e. and look 
off-) 

Bosworth {pointing off R. u. e.). There they are! there they 
are ! as noble a company of boys as ever stood shoulder to shoulder, 
or drank out of the same canteen. I am proud of them. Proud, I 
say, that such noble specimens of manhood should be willing to 
sacrifice themselves in the defence of their country. 

Parson. Yes — yes; and the generosity that was displayed by 
the public. No one refusing. Everybody furnishing something. 
Stockings, kettles, cups, knives, blankets, and no end to the list. 
Look at the barrels and boxes all loaded even to their utmost capa- 
city. Ah, it shows generosity ! 'Tis the milk of human kindness, 
Bosworth. 

Bos. Egad! it shows mettle — mettle, I say. The fathers of 
our country were full of it ; and our children are only chips of the 
old block. 

Bar. (r. i e. with Bridget). Begorra! if the war continues, 
some of the children will carry as much metal as their fathers, Oi'm 
thinking meself. 

Dick. Ya-as ; an' it'll double 'em up wus than takin 1 a cathartic 
pill. 

Bos. {pointing to Dickson). Gad! there is the laggard. Look 
at him ! The man without enthusiasm or ambition. A being with- 
out the electrical thrills that constitute a hero in the hour of battle. 

Dick. Look a-here, Bosworth, I kinder appreciate your compli- 
ments, an' my modesty forbids me makin 1 a flowery reply. IT1 
admit I ain't th' right kind o' peanut fer a fight, an' that I'd make a 
better general than common soldier. 

Bos. Better general than soldier? Egad! how do you make 
that out? 

Dick. Well, a general could stand behind some knoll an' send 
out his commands through an orderly, while th' soldier done tli' 
fightin'. Th' knoll ud stop th' bullets, ye know. 

Bos. Pooh ! pooh ! what do you know of the duties appertaining 
to a general ? 

Dick. Not but a thunderin' little ; but I kinder reckon ef every 
man wus a soldier, an' a hero et thet, th' rest of th' world ud fare 
mighty slim. Talkin' about every man's bein' a soldier, puts me in 
mind of a story. 

Gratia {coming down). If Dickson has got a s"tory to tell, I 



10 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 

want to hear it. {The ladies draw up around Dickson, and seat 
themselves on boxes.) 

Bos. A story-teller is an abomination, unless it is around a camp- 
fire. {Crosses to r. u. e. with Parson Goodwink and others. 
They look off at soldiers.} 

Bar. Come, Bridget, let's join the crowd. {They cross stage 
an d seat themselves near l. i e.) 

Gratia. Now, Dickson, give us the story. 

Dick. Well, once on a time this airth wus peopled 'ith a race 
o' bein's whose ekals fer bravery had never been excelled. Each 
man wus a Hercules in strength, an 1 each one on 'em wus proud of 
his own skill an 1 prowess. In battle no man showed th' white 
feather, an' no battle wus finished until one or both sides hed been 
exterminated. Now — let's see ; did I say thet every man on airth 
wus a soldier an' a hero? 

Gratia. You uttered those remarks, I believe. 

Dick. Then I lied. There wus one man who wus an ekal t' th' 
others in build an' intelligence, but an arrant coward ; an' because 
he wus a coward, he wus hated by th' brave men of his own race. 
At last a great dispute arose, over which th' people of th' hull world 
wus ekally divided ; an' as they couldn't settle th' thing by arbitra- 
tion, et wus decided t' bring it t' an issue in one decisive battle, in 
which every man wus t' engage. 

Gratia. The coward too ? 

Dick. No ; he wern't counted as a man, ye see. So he hid in 
a huge cavern up on th' mountain-side, an', creepin' t' th' openin', 
watched th' progress of th' battle through a spy-glass. Th' soldiers 
cut an' slashed, charged bayonets, threw bombs an' battle-axes, 
an' carved each other t' th' tune of " Yankee Doodle," an' made th' 
dust fly like a chinook off f'rm Pine Ridge. It wus dog eat dog 
until th' last man wus finished. In fact, there wern't a single male 
representative left alive on airth but th' coward up there in th' 
cavern. 

Gratia. And what did he do? 

Dick. Well, arter he found out there weren't eny partic'lar 
danger in bein' scalped ef he issued f'rm his retreat, he jest waltzed 
down inter th' valley an' tuk possession of th' world, accordin t' 
martial law. Now who panned out th' wisest, th' live coward, or 
th' dead heroes — say? 

Bar. Begorra ! Oi'm thinking the man was no coward at all, at 
alf. He naded courage to live. 

Gratia. Why do you think so, Barney? 

Bar. Shure, wasn't the men all dead but himself? And wasn't 
the ladies all left aloive? And wouldn't they all be afther the last 
man loike a lot of foragers afther a fat rooster ? And wouldn't it 
want a moighty soight of courage to shtand it ? 

Gratia. Umph ! All women are not so man-smitten as you 
think. 

Bar. Well, Oi moight belave that same of yourself, if yeez did 



THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. I I 

not gaze so often at our young captain over yender. When Oi see 
that — 

Gratia {turning away) . There, Barney, that will do. 

Bos. Look! look! (All turn down c, and look off.) There 
are the brave boys forming into line. How their uniforms glitter ! 
How their muskets glisten in the sun ! Heavens ! I can hear the 
old-time commands : " Face ! Right shoulder shift — Arms ! For- 
ward — March ! Left — left — left — left ! " {Marches across stage 
to l., and back. Amasa enters and remains L. i. e. He has long 
rifle, upon which Jie leans.) Why, parson, don't it send the blood 
surging through your veins until you feel young again? 

Par. {rubbing his hands). It does make me feel a little fierce, 
I must confess. 

Bos. Fierce? Egad! lam full of it. With martial music at 
my heels, I could dash into the heat of battle with all the impetu- 
osity of youth. Infirmities would be forgotten. I could shout the 
old-time battle-cry, and wield the sword and musket with the brav- 
est. There's music in the clash and clamor of battle, parson, 
glorious music. 

Par. (moving about excitedly) . I declare ! I never realized I 
was so brave. 

Bos. See the tumultuous advance of contending forces ! Hear 
the booming of cannon, the roar of musketry, the shrieking of 
bullets, and crash of bursting shells ! Hear the wild cheers as some 
barrier is broken! Ha! above all, through dust and grime and 
smoke, is the old flag, the glorious stars and stripes, ever first and 
foremost in line. Don't it fill you with inspiration? Don't it make 
you think of country — duty — glory ? 

Par. It does, my dear Bosworth, it certainly does. Dear me ! 
I believe at this moment I could fire a musket myself. Surely we 
hardly realize our own bravery until it is suddenly developed through 
some sudden and extraordinary event. {Looking off c.) I declare ! 
they are pointing their muskets this way. {Jumps behind Bos- 
worth quickly.) 

Bar. Arrah ! fasten the dorg and yeez are moighty brave ; but 
break the chain and, r-r-r-r-rp ! {Aside.) Oi know how it is 
meself. {Aloud.) Thim muskets only hould blank catridges, sor. 

Gratia. I think if father was in actual battle his bravery would 
suddenly diminish. Even now he is startled at the sight of an 
empty gun. 

Par. But, my dear child, bravery should be exercised with great 
caution. When recklessly displayed, thereby resulting in a useless 
exposure to life and limb, it lowers itself into a sense of bravado, 
which to me has suicidal intentions ; but exercised at the proper 
moment, with caution at the helm, and it resolves itself into that 
loftier and more honored term called — heroism. Bravery and 
caution are identical, and one is a necessary adjunct to the other. 

Bar. And yeez belaves in cultivating the latter fhirst. {Aside.) 
Oi'm of the same moind meself. 



12 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 

Mrs. N. Have you got your company completed, Mr. Bosworth ? 

Bos. Lacks one man. That cipher on the box {points to 
Dickson) is the one wanted. Egad ! that such a form should hold 
so little vitality. Less public enthusiasm beating in his breast than 
in the breast of a Mexican greaser. Less by one-half. 

Par. It does seem strange that the energies of any man can 
long lie dormant when the public safety of their country is threat- 
ened. 

Bos. Dormant ? Egad ! his energies are worse than dormant. 
They are withered — dried up — dead. A whole broadside of elo- 
quence charged with Grecian and Roman victories would leave him 
unmoved. He is dead, literally dead. A manikin of a man gifted 
with speech and existing upon a faint spark of animation. Egad ! 
it seems impossible. 

Dick, (with a drawl). Ex-Parson Whitley, gifted 'ith eloquence 
an' near-sighted, a crank on morality an 1 low dresses, went t' Boston 
once t 1 convert th' city. Arter wastin' a heap o' eloquence on a 
young lady who wern't more nor harF-dressed, an' makin' no impres- 
sion, he examined her more closely, an' found he wus talkin' t' a 
wax figure. I kinder reckon t' Bosworth I must be more nor haff 
wax. 

Bos. Putty, sir ; putty, and poor at that. A soldier in looks, if 
well uniformed, but without the qualifications of a fighter. Damme, 
sir ! if I don't hope they'll pin you at the first draft. 

Dick. I might find a substitute if they did. Say ! I reckon I 
kin find you your hundredth man now. 

Bos. Where is he? Every spare man in the country. has volun- 
teered but yourself. Show me the hundredth man. 

Dick, (points to Amasa l. i e.). He stands there. An' he 
ain't only possessed 'ith grit an' good fightin' qualities, but he kin 
shoot straighter than eny man in your hull company. 

Bos. No doubt about that ; but Company G wants no cripples. 
His gun-drill is perfect, and his courage is excellent. I might say, 
superb. Enough ! I refuse him because he is a cripple. 

Amasa. Not a cripple, sir; but deformed. Can a cripple run, 
jump, swim, wrestle, and perform gymnastics? I can do all of those 
things. I am no cripple, sir. 

Bos. Very well ; call it deformed, then. No fault of yours ; but 
it prevents you from joining the command. Our volunteers must 
be perfect — every one of them. They are not drafted men; we 
give them. See? Our gift must represent perfection. 

Bar. A foiner company of soldiers was niver born. Oi'm one 
of thim, your honor. 

Amasa. The bullet from one gun should be as good as the bul- 
let from another ; and he who aims true and hits the mark is more 
to be feared than a dozen men whose bullets are sent at random. 

Mrs. N. The height of his ambition is to serve his country. He 
dwells upon it by day, and at night he talks about it in his 
sleep. 



THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 1 3 

Bos. Yes, yes ; but he should quench the desire. He is not a 
proper subject for the field. The army requires perfect men. 

Amasa (sadly). The crippled and deformed are of no good 
anywhere. If they can fight, let them ; and His a friendly bullet 
from an enemy's gun that takes them off. 

Par. My son, no man was born in vain. Each has a destiny 
to fulfil, whether in a high capacity or a low. If unfit for soldiers 
ourselves, it is a blessing to know we can be of assistance to those 
who can fight. 

Amasa. Parson, am I unfit for a soldier ? They refuse me 
because my back is humped. Better be humpbacked and brave, 
than an Apollo and a coward. 

Par. Yes ; but, my dear boy, you would never endure the priva- 
tions of an army life. 

Amasa. Who can endure hardships better than I? Am I a 
weakling? No ; my muscles are of iron. Show me the man to tire 
me in a race ! Strength ? I'll challenge singly any man in the 
whole company to compete their strength against mine. See here ! 
{Lifts imitation barrel of flour, and holds it above his head.) Can 
a weak man do this ? {Sets barrel down.) Notice! {Turns somer- 
sault.) Can a cripple do that? Watch! (Goes through manual 
of arms.) Am I a novice with the musket? Look! (Points off 
R. c.) See the dead limb on that maple? To it would be sixty 
rods by actual measurement. Watch! (Aims rifle off c. R. and 
fires.) See it fall ? Could I not drop an enemy with the same 
skill? Courage? I leave it with you to decide whether I am a 
coward or not. (Goes /<? l. i e.) 

Bar. Begorra ! when he rushed up three stories in the flames, and 
out of the window on a rope with Haskell's daughter safe and sound, 
he done what another mither's son didn't dare undertake. (Aside.) 
Oi didn't meself. 

Gratia. And into the river at high flood, and down the rapids 
to save Maplewood's boy. He did it too, and carries a medal for 
performing the deed. 

Bar. And which he is too proud to wear. 

Bos. Don't dispute his bravery. Egad ! I admit it, and admire 
it. Straighten him up, and I'll make him first in the company. 
There's the rub ! A good cannon on a sprung axle makes a poor 
show. 

Amasa. Whether it shoots well or not. I see ! I see ! 

Mrs. N. Is there not some office he could fill without being a 
soldier ? Some place in which he could be of assistance ? 

Bos. No ; every office is filled. We want one man, and he must 
be without spot or blemish. 

Dick. A second Absalom, so to speak. Fate pints t' me ferth' 
victim ; but I'll be hanged ef I hanker fer th' office. 

Bar. Begorra! this is one toime where the office hankers for the 
man. 

Mrs. N. Amasa might be of some assistance in camp — 



14 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 

Amasa. Mother, say no more. I have asked, have laid my case 
before him, have been refused. 'Tis the same the world over. 
The inferior and deformed are objects of pity and commiseration. 
I hate pity! All that a soldier can do, I can do. Is that not 
enough? No. lam not erect. I break the alignment. I am of 
no good. Alas ! Amasa Nogood is of no good. 

Dick. Th' handsomest hoss I ever saw wus th 1 poorest. You 
see, th' how of it wus jest this — {Points out with his finger as if to 
continue.*) 

Bos. E;ad ! the brave boys are marching around the square. I 
must meet them with a salute. {Rushes off l. u. E.) 

Par. Yes ; we must show them that we contain some of the 
same spirit as themselves. (Hurries after Bosworth.) 

Bar. Begorra ! the parson has betther luck thin meself, for Oi 
haven't a dhrap. Come, Bridget, we'll follow the ould captain. 

Gratia. And I will follow after. {The three exeunt l. u. e.) 

Dick, {with finger still pointed. After a pause*) . Til be blowed 
ef thet wam't th 1 fust time I wus ever shut off in th' middle of a 
speech. When a lot o' blue coats kin outshine a hoss story, there 
ain't much t' be expected frm th' hoss, I vum. {Gets up.) Well, 
1 kinder reckon I'll follow th 1 crowd. {Exit l. u. e.) 

Mrs. N. {approaching Amasa. l. i e.). Amasa, be not discour- 
aged. Tnere is home work to be accomplished. Work that will 
benefit our country, and at the same time be of service to those in 
the fieid. If we are destined for that office, let us accept our posi- 
tion, and go to work cheerfully- 

Amasa. I can't do it. My place is in the field ; I feel it — I know 
it. Who of our Home Guards could equal me at the drill? Not 
one. Even Bosworth has complimented me upon my perfect 
manual of arms. Yet, when my country calls, and I am first to 
volunteer, I am refused. Why? Because I am deformed. 

Mrs. N. But for your deformity, Bosworth would have been 
glad of your services. 

Amasa. Are soldiers for ornament or use? What cares the gov- 
ernment in the hour of battle how men are formed, if they can shoot 
well, and have courage? A rebel bullet is no respecter of persons. 
Were the battle-field a dress parade, where symmetry of figure and 
fine accoutrements held the attention, my deformity might debar me 
from serving ; but in actual warfare there can be no excuse. 

Mrs. N. Still, Amasa, you know Bosworth originated the com- 
pany, and the sole choice of the men was left to his discretion. 

Amasa. Yes ; and every Home Guard was chosen but myself. 
Now, when the excitement is rife, when the time has come for 
action, when the pantomime becomes a reality, I must stand back, 
a discarded and useless tool, and watch others obtain that which has 
always been my ambition to reach. Oh, would that I had never 
been born ! Would that, like the Persian babe, crippled and de- 
formed, I had been strangled at birth. 

Mrs. N. Oh, Amasa, don't talk like that ! It grieves me to the 
heart. 



THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 1 5 

Amasa. Mother, you can never realize how I have longed for 
this opportunity. An opportunity when I could be of service to 
my country. For it I have conquered the rifle. For it I have 
practised drill tactics until I have become its master. For it I 
have endured, have hardened my muscles, have withstood exposure, 
have practised athletic feats, until I am strong and robust and hard 
to overcome. I have done all this; and for what? Only to be 
stricken from the roll. 

Mrs. N. Remember, my boy, war is a cruel pastime. Can you 
not understand it? How you have become imbued with this mar- 
tial spirit, I know not. Surely 'tis not the result of my teaching. 

Amasa. Have not the exploits of those old Persian and Greek 
heroes inspired me with awe? Have I not worshipped at the shrine 
of Roman heroism? The martial deeds of the great Napoleon and 
Frederick contained a fascination that has held me entranced. 
Have I not clung to Wallace, to the Prince of Orange, to Cromwell, 
and to our own Washington even, by the oil of the midnight lamp? 
Can you wonder that I am ambitious when I keep such books con- 
tinually open before me? 

Mrs. N. You certainly do not expect to imitate or rival those old 
heroes ? 

Amasa. Not if cast out and rejected — no. Neither do I expect 
to be more than my humpback will let me. I have never aspired to 
be a Caesar, or a Napoleon, or an Alexander even. I do not expect 
it. I only aspire to that height which I know I am capable of 
reaching. I would carry the stars and stripes in these strong 
hands ; carry them waving and fluttering in the breeze ; carry them 
in the midst of battle ; carry them to the front ; carry them over 
the rebel breastworks, and plant them above the rebel standard. 
That is the height of my ambition; and I'll reach that height if I 
have to follow the Northern soldiers as a dog sent home follows 
that master afar off whom it would serve. And if I die, I will do 
that, and do it as becomes a soldier. ( Crosses to R.) 

Mrs. N. (l.). My son, your words are prophetic. If destined 
for some chivalrous deed, ennobling in the eyes of the world, be- 
lieve me, an opportunity will be offered you. If not in Company 
G, then in some other. Come ! let us go to the house. 

Amasa. No; go you, and I will follow later on. I am not 
friendless, mother. Among the boys yonder are those who sympa- 
thize with me, and I know it. I feel better in their presence, even 
though I am nothing but a spectator. 

Mrs. N. As you choose. I will have a warm supper all ready 
on your return. Bosworth may discard you if he chooses ; but in 
the eyes of your mother you are as noble as though you were de- 
tailed captain of Company G. {Exit l. i e.) 

Amasa. Deformed, and an object of pity. Fit only to associate 
with babes and those afflicted with misfortunes like myself. Oh, 
why am I mocked with mine own infirmities ! Can the galley slave, 
the prisoner sentenced for life, the bed-ridden paralytic, ever harbor 



l6 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 

ennobling and ambitious thoughts? Neither can I, the ill-shaped, 
the distorted, the hunchbacked, ever aspire to heights which only 
the perfect and God-favored can hope to reach. Alas ! my lot is 
cast among the lowly and unfortunate. {Looks off*L. u. e. Sound 
of drum beating in the distance.) The soldiers are marching this 
way. Young Bosworth is a fine captain, and were it for him to de- 
cide, my shape would not keep me from the ranks. {Crosses to 

L.J E.) 

Bar. {enters l. u. E., followed by Bridget. They look off). Look 
at thim, me darlint! Don't they march foinely? I very man jhust 
loike one, and showing the discipline of ould soldiers. 

Bridget. You should be marching with them, Barney. 

Bar. Bad luck to it ! don't Oi have to guard this stuff ? Oi shall 
be with thim, though, whin they foind the hundredth man. (Bar- 
ney and Bridget remain in tent l. 2 e.) 

Dick, {enters l. u. e.). I'm a good deal like a sinner touched 
'ith a sense o' conviction at a revival. I'm beginnin' t' grow inter- 
ested. Hang it ! t' see soldiers dressed t' kill, an 1 listen t' martial 
music, jest makes me want t 1 chaw somebody right up. Til bet 
two dollars they'll rake me in afore two hours. {Seats himself on 
box near tent l.) 

Bar. Begorra ! if they do, they'll git the poorest rake they iver 
had. (Dickson turns toward him.) Oi was only joking, sor. 

Bos. {enters l. u. e., followed by Parson and Gratia. They 
look off). Here they come! Here they come! Egad! I am 
proud of them. The north is proud of them, parson. 

Par. If they fight as well as their appearances would indicate 
they certainly will leave a lasting impression upon the minds of 
many. 

Bos. Egad ! won't they? Company G will be known the world 
over. Make room now, and let the noble boys march by. {They 
pass to R. 1 E.) 

{Band enters playing from l. u. e., followed by Frank Bos- 
worth, and after him the soldiers marching in two's. If the 
soldiers are drilled, Bosworth crosses to R., halts the soldiers, faces 
the7n front, and puts them through the manual of arms. The 
band falls in behind. The drill should be worked if possible, as it 
adds greatly to the effect of the play. If not drilled, they march 
on and off R. u. e. Enough can rush around and on again to 
make tip any number desired. After drill is finished, the band 
march off playing r. u. E., followed by Frank Bosworth and sol- 
diers, in same order as upon entering. If i?npossible to get soldiers, 
all must look off l. u. e. at imaginary ones.) 

Bos. {after soldiers have passed out). Can a man gaze on a 
sight like that without emotion? Egad ! it affects me mentally and 
physically. Parson, I'd give the half of my wealth to be put back 
forty years in life. 



THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 1 7 

Par. My dear Bosworth, you must be content with past achieve- 
ments. You have experienced your share of warfare already. 

Bos. Well, I'm full of fight yet. Damme ! if it wasn't for this 
game leg I would lead the command myself. 

Gratia. There is a better captain in charge now. 

Bos. {turning quickly). What's that? Oh! yes, yes, I see. 
Frank is a good captain. Chip of the old block, my girl. Full of 
his father's mettle, and will, no doubt, conduct himself nobly. 
Interested — eh ! 

Gratia. Oh — no; not materially. Let's change the subject. 
Have you thought how much different this fine company will look 
after a hard fought battle? War is a terrible thing. 

Bar. Arrah ! we soldiers realize it, me lady. 

Bos. Pooh ! women are sentimental. Never felt happier than 
when I was struck in the hip by a Mexican bullet. Little bodily 
pain; but what of that? It was nothing — comparatively nothing. 

Bar. Begorra ! if it's anything loike the colic Oi want none of 
it meself. 

Bridget. Sure, Barney, yeez could take Jamaica ginger. " 

Bar. Would that kape off the bullets ? Divil take Jamaica gin- 
ger for bullets in the stomach. Oi'm no belaver in the medicine. 

Dick. Look a-here, Bosworth, I'd jest like t' know about how 
many chances there is, in actual battle, of a man's bein' killed. 

Bos. One in a thousand. Take's a man's weight in lead to kill 
him. 

Dick. Yes : I've heerd so afore ; but that ain't much consola- 
tion fer th' one who is killed. I've noticed, though, thet th' man 
who went t' war, an' hedlife enough t' return, ef he wern't all there, 
wus alius more nor less of a hero. He wus alius a great story teller, 
too. Durned ef my grandsire wouldn't talk of deeds he'd done in 
th' war of 1 812 until your eyes bunged right out. Why, he'd pint 
t 1 th' old musket on th' wall an' tell ye of th' scenes it hed passed 
through, until et jest made yow green 'ith envy t' think of it. 

Bos. Yes ; and if the old musket could speak it would sanction 
every word he said. The man who is not thrilled over the recital 
of war anecdotes is dead to feeling. Egad ! I could tell stories re- 
lating to the Mexican war that would put life into a dead Quaker. 
Every story true, too. 

Dick. Don't doubt et in th' least ; an' after they've been re- 
hashed fer two generations they wouldn't sound Dad in print. 
Reckon th' boys o' Company G '11 be Jest a-bilin' over 'ith 'em at 
th' close of th' war. That is, them as is lucky enough t' return. 

Bos. Egad ! you couldn't purchase their experience for love or 
money. The war experiences of an old soldier is the light of his 
old age. They are without value or price. 

Dick, {moving uneasily). Jest so. Say! couldn't let me see 
thet list o' names, could ye? That is, you've no partic'lar objection 
t 1 showin' 'em, I s'pose? 

Bos. {crossing to Dickson and handing him paper). No, sir; 



l8 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 

I am proud to show them. Every man who signed that paper is a 
hero. 

Bar. Oi'm one of thim meself. 

Dick. Yes ; an 1 you'll manage t' retain courage enough t' return, 
Til bet two dollars, {Looking at paper.) Let's see ! how many 
chances did you say there wus of a man's bein' killed in battle ? 

Bos. Barely one in a thousand. Been in dozens of battles my- 
self, and am living yet. 

Dick. An' you said, I believe, that it tuk a man's weight in lead 
t' kill him. 

Bos. Averages that upon calculation. 

Dick. Jest so. Do th' battles come purty often? 

Bos. Only on paper. Won't average one in a year to a single 
company. Pooh ! the boys will squelch the rebellion in six months. 
Chances are they will never smell powder. 

Dick. There's plenty t' eat an' drink, I s'pose? 

Bos. Enough and to spare. Fresh meat, canned fruit, con- 
densed milk, sutler's pies — Egad! it makes my mouth water to 
think of it. What you eat you will relish, too. Food will taste 
sweeter than fresh grass butter, and ditch water sweeter than deli- 
cious nectar. No dyspepsia there, sir. 

Dick. But there's a heap o' hard work, I reckon ? 

Bos. None too much for exercise. Needs hard work to endure 
fatigue, and to keep the muscles in proper condition. Look at me ! 
Hard work is what has developed my muscle, and has left me hale 
and hearty in my old age. {Advances front.) 

Dick, {signing paper unobserved by Bosworth). Durned ef I 
wasn't sort o' struck 'ith Company G. Their uniforms jest fitted 
'em t' a T. 

Bos. {nebbing his hands and turning back) . Egad! didn't they? 
Didn't they look magnificent? Who could look at the noble boys 
without envying them their position. Didn't it give you anima- 
tion? Didn't it thrill you with a desire to enter your name upon 
the roll ? 

Dick. I'll be hanged ef it didn't, squire. 

Bos. {growing interested). Didn't it fill you with a desire to 
serve your country? To make of yourself a bright and shining 
mark ? To embellish your name upon the pages of history ? Didn't 
it quench that cowardly feeling in your breast, and give you courage ? 

Dick. Never felt so courageous in all my life. 

Bos. That's right ! That's right ! It has filled you with a de- 
sire to join 'em — eh ? 

Dick. It sartin has, squire. I'll be durned ef I ain't filled 'ith 
what-you-may-call-it clean t' th' backbone. 

Bos. {elated). Egad! I'm glad to hear it. That's the kind of 
language I delight in. It puts life into a man. Egad ! I knew 
such a physique could never contain a cowardly heart. Parson, he 
will make the hundredth man. Damme ! I'm proud of you. I knew 
you contained a war-like spirit. Felt it all the time. Here ! put 



THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. I9 

your name right down, and complete the list. {Starts to point to 
the place.') 

Dick, {gives paper to Bosworth. Parson takes it). Til be 
hanged ef I could think of it, squire. 

Bos. {starting back in surprise) . W-w-w-w-what's that ! You 
refuse to volunteer? You still refuse to sign ? 

Dick. I do, Bosworth, emphatically an 1 teetotally. 

Bos. {dancing around in a rage) . Egad ! of all the doggasted, 
blankety blanked cowards, you are the worst ! Damme ! you are 
the chief of cowards ! You're an insult to your race ! You — you — 

Par. {hopping around after Bosworth). My dear Bosworth I 
My dear Bosworth ! 

Bos. {dancing around). You ought to be court-martialled. You 
ought to be placarded "coward" and posted up in front of some 
regiment . You — you — 

Par. {following him around). My dear Bosworth, will you look 
here ? 

Bos. {stopping angrily). Well, what is it? What do you want? 

Par. {pointing to paper). Why, my dear Bosworth, he has 
signed the paper already. Don't you perceive it ? {Points to the 
name.) 

Bos. {grasping paper) . Hey? {Perceives name.) Damme! so 
he has. Well ! well ! a-a-ahem ! Dickson, you're an enigma. Egad ! 
you're a perfect conundrum. As to my language — Well, well, 
don't mind it, don't mind it, my boy. Parson — here ! take him by 
the arm. We soon will have him arrayed in a suit that will make 
him an ornament to his country. 

Par. Indeed we will ; and what a magnificent ornament he will 
make, too. (Parson takes him by left arm, Bosworth by right.) 

Bos. Come, Dickson, we will escort you to the hall. Egad! 1 
long to see you uniformed. 

Dick, {as they lead him off). This sorter seems like goin' t' an 
execution. I'll be hanged ef it don't. {They exeunt L. u. e.) 

Gratia {crossing to Amasa) . Amasa, now they are gone I want 
to speak with you. I never saw you look so dejected before. You 
stand here like a living statue, without word or utterance. 

Amasa. Wherefore should I speak ? 

Gratia. Because, there is that in your words that always com- 
mands attention. When you speak, others listen. 

Amasa. There are times for speech and times for silence. When 
speech is not required, silence leaves a better impression. 

Gratia. The reason for your silence I fully understand. Could 
I assist you, I would, as you are well aware. As it is, you have my 
heartfelt sympathy. 

Bar. And he has moine too, me lady. 

Amasa. Sympathy is akin to pity ; and pity is for the unfortu- 
nate. If bestowed upon me for my deformity, I accept it ; but if for 
being excluded from the ranks, I need it not. I am competent to 
serve with the best. 



20 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 

Gratia. I wish I might aid you. If I may ask it, what are now 
your intentions ? 

Amasa. Only to ask one favor. Young Bosworth is my friend. 
I shall ask it of him. 

Gratia {who has been looking off r. c). You can soon do that, 
for he is coming now. 

(Frank Bosworth enters r. u. e. Amasa and Barney give 
salute, which is returtted by young Bosworth. He crosses to l.) 

Frank. Gratia, when on duty I didn't dare give you a glance. 
Now, I am yours truly. Barney, in looks you are the model of a 
soldier. May Bridget never forget you when you are away. 

Bridget. I'll not forget him, your honor. 

Bar. If she does, it will be a poor battle that some inimy don 1 t 
pick me off. 

Frank {taking Amasa by the hand ) . Amasa, I cannot address 
you as I desire. You know my feelings, and how I am constrained 
to act. I have nothing further to add. Good-by. {Shakes him 
warmly by the hand and turns away.) Gratia, let us walk. 

Amasa. Captain Bosworth ! 

Frank {turning back). At your service. (Gratia crosses to 
tent and talks with Barney.) 

Amasa. I have one favor to ask. 

Frank. Ask a hundred, Amasa, and I will grant them, if in my 
power. 

Amasa. I would ask permission to follow the company. Not 
as a soldier, but as a common citizen, and at my own expense. 

Frank. Amasa, I will take you in charge myself. You shall 
go, and I will see that your expenses are defrayed. 

Amasa {firmly). Pardon, captain ; you must grant the favor as 
I have asked it, or not at all. 

Frank {looking at him earnestly for a moment). Very well. I 
grant you the favor. Can I assist you further? 

Amasa. That is all. {Salutes and turns l.) 

Frank. Gratia, let us go. {Exit with Gratia r. u. e.) 

Bridget. I wouldn t mind walking the other way, Barney. 

Bar. Bad luck to it ! this stuff — Niver moind, Oi'll go a little 
ways anyway. {They exeunt l. u. e.) 

Amasa {coming front). I will bide my time/. When the battle 
rages fiercest, and places are made vacant, then -may I, the citizen, 
the ununiformed, be found at the front. Glory may not be mine to 
achieve ; neither do I want glory for what the name may imply ; 
but should my life be spared, and should circumstances place me 
in the right position, then shall it be known that I, the hunchback, 
the discarded, the pitied and unfortunate, can be of service to my 
country. {Picture.) 

CURTAIN. 



THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. ' 21 



ACT II. 

Scene. — A Union camp. Set trees l., and woody landscape l. c. 
Landscape to the R. is more open, showing hills in the distance. 
Stack of arms near l. c, and camp-fire in front. Sentinel pa- 
cing back and forth down stage. Barney is seated on log R. I e., 
cleaning gun. Dickson seated near fires moking. A group of 
soldiers are playing cards near c R. As curtain rises all are 
singing some camp-song suited to the occasion. 

Dick, {after song is finished}. Say, fellers, where d'ye s'pose 
Barney wus skulkin' yesterday durin' th' skirmish ? 

Bar. Oi was roight in the front line, sor. Jhust a little to the 
right of the left. 

Dick. In a horn you was ! Which of our boys wus you a-fignt- 
in 1 atween ? 

Bar. Oi hardly know that, sor. Oi was so engaged in loading 
and firing that Oi could hardly foind out meself, sor. 

First S. Oh, shucks ! I know the exact log he was a-hidin' 
behind when we was making the advance. At the time I thought 
he had been plugged by a rebel bullet ; but on our return I found 
there weren't nuthin left but the hole which he had tried to crawl 
into. 

Second S. And ten loaded cartridges which I found buried 
there and brought back to camp. 

Bar. Oi can explain all that, sor. Oi was taken moightily sick, 
and jhust tumbled down there for the toime being. It was only for 
the toime being, Oi kin assure you, sor, yis, sor. 

Dick. An 1 you hed t' throw up loaded cartridges fer relief. Jest 
so. Say ! I'll bet you wus so pesky scairt thet you couldn't hev 
told a Johnny f rm a white oak-tree. Munson's Hill battery ud jest 
hev hit your case t' a T. Look a-here, fellers, what's th' penalty fer 
bein' a skulker? 

First S. Bucked and gagged, and a target of ridicule for the 
regiment. 

Second S. Besides bein' put on half-rations and docked of a 
year's salary. 

Dick. Ya-as; an' doin' th' dirty work of his superior officers. 
I'll be hanged ef I wouldn't rather be shot. 

Bar. Begorra! yeez had betther look to home, Oi'm a-thinking. 
Didn't the ould captain taze ye to enlist until he was well nigh dis- 
gusted ? And didn't yeez refuse until yeez was called a coward by 
the whole company? 

Dick. I'll be hanged ef I didn't ; an' ef I'd held out a day longer 
my ribs ud have contained more fat than they do now, I'll bet a 
dollar. Th' old captain in '61 wus a-goin' t' squelch this ere rebel- 
lion in six months ; but et kinder looks now as ef th' squelchin' 
might be on t'other side. 



22 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 

First S. Reckon if we have a few more disasters like that at 
Ball's Bluff, it will ; but we ain't a-goin' to. You see, we came out 
here to Lincoln's second call like as if we wus coming out to a 
basket picnic. We wern't in the fight. Since weVe heen horse- 
whipped a few times our dander's riz, and now the Johnnies must 
look out. 

Dick. Et makes me think o 1 th' boy who went a-fishin' an' wore 
a pair o' bran-new boots. At fust he tiptoed around th' rocks, 
looked out fer bad places, skipped all th' mud holes, an 1 wasted so 
much time a-keepin' 'em in a polished condition thet he caught no 
fish. Finally he made a slip an' landed in a soft an' miry place 
clean t' his knees. Arter thet he waded right in t' fishin' an' hed 
purty consid'ble good luck. Now I reckon thet's our case exactly. 
We've tiptoed around in bran-new clothes until we've got 'em 
soiled, an' now we're ready t' wade right in t' business. 

Second S. {looking himself over}. We ain't so polished as 
when we fust came out here, that's a tact. 

DiCk. Polished? Durned ef I wasn't given a jaunty suit 'ith th' 
promise o' doin' nuthin' but jest drawin' back pay an' livin' on gov- 
ernment rations. Now look at me. {Stands up, showing his clothes, 
which must be old and ragged.) There ain't nuthin' about me but 
a mass o' jammed, crushed, and misshapen disfigurement f 'rm head 
t' foot. It's a beastly swindle, by thunder ! 

First S. Shows you've worked hard, or else, like Barney, been 
diggin' holes behind some other log. We'll excuse you from that, 
though, seein' as how ours is in the same condition. Great Scott ! 
what a change from the day we paraded the common afore leaving 
home ! 

Dick. Et does squint thet way, thet's a fact. Howsumever, 
Company G kin git there jest th' same, whether she's in a band- 
boxy condition or not. I reckon she'll hev another chance afore 
t'morrow mornin' too. 

Bar. Shure, and is there to be another battle? 

Dick. Haven't you heerd firin' across th' valley over th 1 hills 
there, t' th' right? Can't ye see thet rebel flag a-flyin' in th' dis- 
tance? I'm expectin' every minit t' hear 'em a-shoutin' : " Fall in 
Company G ! Fall in ! Fall in ! " 

First S. Yes ; an' some of 'em will fall out afore them batteries 
are taken too. (Am as a enters l. i e. He is still dressed in citi- 
zen's clothes.} Well, Amasa, what is your opinion of the day? 

Amasa. There will be fighting. Already has skirmishing begun 
beyond the hills there to the south. It is the sharp wind that blows 
before the storm. October will be known as the month of battles 
along the Mississippi. 

First S. Have you got an idea that our company will be drawn 
into it? 

Amasa. How can you avoid it? Are you not part of the regi- 
ment stationed over yonder? See that Palmetto flag in the dis- 
tance? It will be your duty to capture it. 



THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 23 

Dick. Thet is, ef we kin ; an' ef we do, Company G '11 be out 
of more men than she is already. 

Amasa. Can you expect it otherwise? Company G has fought, 
suffered, and triumphed. In one short year it has been initiated 
into all of the hardships of war, and has achieved for itself both 
honor and distinction. No men have less cause to be ashamed of 
well earned laurels than the men of Company G. 

Bar. She's a brave company, shure enough. 

Dick. Thet's all right ; but when I see you around in thet dog- 
goned citizen's suit when you ought t 1 be uniformed an' fust in th 1 
company, I am ashamed, an 1 feel jest like blushin', ef I only knew 
how. Look et Shiloh an 1 hafif a dozen other battles? In 'em you 
fought like a tiger ; an' what hev you got t' show fer it? 

Amasa {crossing to R.). My life; and that is more than 
some of your brave boys can claim. Do not criticise my position. 
While yoa are subject to rules, regulations, and stern commands, I 
am unincumbered and free to go or come at will. While you must 
rush into danger and meet the enemy face to face, I am at liberty 
to stand back and watch you, if I choose. While you must drill, 
and work, and do duty as rules require, I can stand " at rest," or 
idle around the camp. Perhaps my position is to be envied after 
all. Never mind. If God permits, perhaps I will be with you in 
the battle of to-day. {Gives salute and exit r. i e.) 

Dick. Ef it takes a hump t' make a man as brave as thet one, 
I'll be hanged ef I wouldn't want one on each shoulder. He's not 
only almost indispensable in camp, but in battle he's a hero clean 
t' th' back bone. He ought t' be uniformed. 

Second S. Blast it ! he won't accept of one. No, sir ; not when 
they offered him one after the bravery he displayed in the fust bat- 
tle. Don't blame him either, after the way old Bos worth used him 
at the start. 

Bar. Amasa is a brave lad, so he is. 

Dick. How in thunder do you know ? Ever see eny on it your- 
self? 

Bar. Shure, and didn't we foight side by side during the last 
engagement? Oi got out of bullets, and left him me rifle to hould 
whoile Oi went back to the rare for more. 

Dick. He used it t' good advantage, I s'pose? 

Bar. He did that, loading and firing loike the divil. Oi saw 
him dhrap two rebels afther Oi left. 

Dick. I thought you wus out o' bullets? 

Bar. What, sor? 

First S. How could he shoot without bullets ; an' how could 
you see him when back in the rear? 

Bar. {scratching his head) . Why, you see, sor — Well, sor, 
Oi must have two battles mixed up, sor, yis, sor. 

Dick. I should reckon you hed. I'll be durned ef you ain't 
like th' man, who, arter shootin' a deer in th' hottest day in July, 
chased it through a field o' new mown grass, then out on t' a pond 



24 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 

o 1 ice, an' finally caught it in a snow drift on 'tother side. There 
wus somethin 1 mixed up about that. 

Bar. Well, sor, wid the sudden changes of weather we have in 
this counthry, Oi think he could have done it widout any incon- 
vaynience to himself. Oh, and Oi do that. 

Dick. Speakin' o 1 suddin 1 changes puts me in mind of Vermont. 
Th' weather flops around so pesky quick up in thet kentry thet 
they hev t 1 keep track of it 'ith a lightnin' calculator. Hev known 
'em t' start out on wheels in th 1 mornin', an 1 back on runners et 
night. Thet's why all th 1 wagons up there are made reversible 'ith 
runners on top. Hev known an egg thet wus laid in July t' freeze 
afore th' hen could turn around t' set on it ; an' two minits afore it 
wus laid th' thermometer stood 90 in th' shade. Now I call thet 
floppin' around purty consid'bly kind o' suddin'. 

Bar. Shure, and did yeez iver see the weather in ould Ireland? 
Well, sor, one day, whoile Tim O'RafTerty was planting p'raties, a 
cold braze sprung up and froze him to death, wid great dhraps of 
sweat still shtanding upon his brow. Thin, between breaths, and 
wid the hoe still in his hands, he was thawed out wid a hot braze, 
and so quickly, that he kept right on working widout remember- 
ing he had been dead. Thin another toime — 

Dick. Jest let thet other time hev a rest. Shake! {They shake 
hands.) A lie thet is respectable an' half reasonable has some- 
thin' about it I admire ; but one so pesky inconsistent, an' crooked, 
thet it can't bear t' hear itself told, jest puts me t' th' blush. You 
ain't only th' biggest coward in camp, but I'll be hanged ef you 
ain't th 1 biggest liar. 

First S. {looking offL.). Dickson, get a snoop on you. Here 
comes old Bosworth and the ladies, or I'm a sinner. Ain't that 
gal peaches, though? 

Dick, {looking off). Durned ef I shouldn't call this visitin' 
camp purty nigh on t' th' verge of a battle. Howsumever, this is 
a safe quarter, I reckon ; ef it wasn't I shouldn't be in it. 

{Enter l. i e. John Bosworth, Parson, Gratia, and Mrs. No- 
good. Soldiers rise and salute.) 

Bos. Egad ! this is exhilarating. This is gratifying to the 
senses. In every camp is life and activity. Blood has been spilled 
and Company G has shared in the spilling. 

Bar. And it's willing to spill more, if necessary. {Aside.) Oi 
hope it won't be necessary. 

Dick, {aside to Barney). You're a fool 'ith th'past participle 
afore it. 

Par. I never realized before that war was such a horrible butch- 
ery. Every hospital we have visited is a huge slaughter-house full 
of maimed, crushed, and shattered humanity. If I ever possessed 
any inclination for fighting it has entirely vanished in my experi- 
ences of the past few days. 

Bos. Pooh ! pooh ! parson ; wounds are honorable. They show 



THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 25 

the marks of brave men. Dickson, I hear good news of you. A 
coward in camp, a hero in battle. It is apt to be the reverse. 

Dick. I kinder reckon, squire, thet you've been misinformed. 
I wern't never so all-fired scairt as I wus in th' fust battle when a 
shell went tearin 1 over me an 1 busted about three hundred rods in 
th 1 rear. I jest wanted t' sink right out o' sight ; an' th' reason I 
didn't wus because th'mud puddle I stood in wasn't two feet deeper. 

First S. Captain, he is without fear. I reckon he don't have 
intelligence enough to realize danger when he is in its midst. 

Dick. Good deal like Higginson's cow, ain't I? There th' 
durned critter stood on th' track, a-facin' th' engine, an' a-chewin' 
her cud as contentedly as ef she wus bein' milked, an' never 
moved until she wus knocked inter shoestrings an' hed her remains 
scattered over th' length o' four pastures. Nuthin' like not 
knowin' enough t' appreciate danger when ypu see it. 

Bos. Ha! ha! ha! a soldier without a joke is like a gun with- 
out a trigger. They exult in it. 'Tis the humorous side of war. 
(Muffled drum to represent gun heard offR. u. e.) Egad ! there goes 
a gun. (Rushes down stage and looks off. All the soldiers join him 
but Barney.) 

Par. (near l. i e. with Gratia and Mrs. Nogood). I 
declare ! I hope the battle will not extend in this direction. 

Gratia. Have no fears, father. This camp is too far in the 
rear for immediate danger. We are entirely safe for the present. 

Par. I trust we are. In case of an attack I have not even a 
weapon with which to defend myself. I will speak with the gentle- 
man pacing yonder. 

(Goes to sentinel, who contimies pacing back and forth, Par- 
son follows behind gesticulating and talking in pantomime. Pic- 
ture.') 

Gratia, (crossing to Barney r. i e .followed by Mrs. No- 
good). Well, Barney, I suppose you have been in several battles? 

Bar. Oi have that, mam. Company G has done some hard 
foighting. Shure, and it's meself has experienced some narrow 
escapes. 

Gratia. Escapes from death, Barney? Let me hear about 
them. 

Bar. Well, one day whoile Oi was in the front rank a-foighting 
beside our young captain, and loading and firing so fast that the 
rifle burned in me hands, a shell from the guns of the inimyshtruck 
right in the front of where Oi was standing. 

Mrs. N. Mercy! did it explode? 

Bar. It was just on the point of exploding, when, thinking of 
our young captain, Oi grasped it in me two hands and hurled it 
beyend a stone wall that happened to be behind us. In less than 
two seconds it blew that stone wall into splintereens. 

Mrs. N. What a narrow escape ! 

Gratia. And the devotion you displayed, too. Surely, Frank 
must feel grateful toward you for your appreciation of his safety. 



26 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 

Bar. Shure such acts ar 1 common wid soldiers, me lady. They 
die for each other twice a week, and oftener if necessary. Did yeez 
lave Bridget in comfortable health ? 

Gratia. Oh, yes; and that makes me think. Here is a letter 
for you which she confided to my care. I nearly forgot it. {Hands 
him letter.} 

Bar. {looking at letter affectionately). The swate craychure t 
And this is in her own handwriting, is it? Shure yeez will excuse 
me for the toime being whoile Oi regale meself upon the contents. 

Gratia. You are quite excusable, Barney. 

(Barney crosses to fire and seats himself. Business of reading 
and caressing letter.} 

Mrs. N. I wonder where Amasa is keeping himself? I have 
not seen him to-day. 

Gratia. When Frank left me this morning he said they were 
looking for trouble off there to the right ; but if possible he would 
be back by ten. By his not returning, and hearing the sound of 
guns at intervals, I fear the trouble has already commenced. Prob- 
ably Amasa is in that direction. 

Mrs. N. Yes; if fighting occurs, he is sure to be in the midst. 
At other times he is of great assistance among the wounded. As 
tender even, if not more so, than a woman. It was to be near my 
boy that I offered my services at the hospital. 

Gratia. And I think you find enough to do, too. I have seen 
enough during my short visit to camp to give me the horrors for a 
month. What a terrible thing war is ! 

Mrs. N. Ah, yes; and I fear the trouble is only commenced. 
The complications increase, and at times the advantage seems to 
be with the South. 

Gratia. And Frank's father said they could put down the 
rebellion in six months. How little we know how great a fire a 
little blaze kindleth. 

Par. {coming down) . I declare ! I never realized before how 
rude a soldier can be. At home John was the perfect picture of 
meekness and politeness, stopping at every corner to converse with 
me, and always exhibiting unbounded expressions of delight. 
Here, I am barely noticed. At the same time he causes me to fol- 
low him up and down the path, and when I ask him a civil question, 
he rudely answers with a " Yes, sir ! !' and a " No, sir ! " that I fail 
to comprehend. 

Gratia. Why, father, John is on duty. Didn't you know it by 
his actions ? 

Par. {turning to look at him). Is that it? /Well, well, how 
ignorant I am. I fancied he had swallowed something that wouldn't 
digest, and was walking to wear it off. '{Goes down to Bosworth 

R. U. E.) 

Gratia {laughing) . How little father understands the tactics of 



THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 2J 

war. {Turning to Barney.) Well, Barney, by the grimaces you 
are going through with, I should judge the letter pleased you. 

Bar. Shure, and it does that. Will you hear this, now. 
{Reads.) "To my brave Barney, the soldier lad of whom Oi 
am proud." Arrah ! the swate craychure knows of whom she is 
spaking. 

Gratia. It is evident she has a strong affection for a soldier — 
especially a brave one. 

Bar. Upon me sowl Oi admire her for her taste. 'Tis the 
soldier makes the man, whether the man makes the soldier or not. 
Here is a wee bit more. (Dickson approaches behind Barney 
unobserved and listens. Barney reads.) "Whin O'Hara thries 
to kiss me, Oi tell him no kisses are so swate loike thim from the 
lips of a soldier ; and that soldier is my own brave Barney." Will 
you listen to that, now? No one can kiss her but a soldier, and 
that soldier must be her own brave Barney. 

Dick. It don't say that. 

Bar. {starting). Arrah! there! Shure — what the divil do 
yeez know about it? 

Dick. It says when he tried t' kiss her, meanin', o' course, thet 
he wus walkin' 'ith her by moonlight, thet she merely said she hed 
ruther be kissed by a soldier; but ef she couldn't be, she'd be 
mighty glad t' take up 'ith some one else. 

Bar. {looking at letter doubtfully) . Shure, and did it rade loike 
that? 

Dick. Well, it read purty consid'bly near like it, as near as I 
could calkerlate. At least, thet wus my interpretation of it. 

Gratia. Barney, don't let him frighten you. Bridget is a good 
girl, and is greatly attached to you. 

Bar. {soberly). Indade, Oi belaved that same a moment ago; 
but now Oi hardly know. {Looking at letter.) Upon me sowl ! it 
don't rade that he didn't kiss her ! 

Dick. Of course it don't. You'll find out thet even a soldier 
kin get left. She's jest stuffin 1 you. Oh, I know how it is — I've 
been there myself. I'll be hanged ef I wouldn't set mvself up as a 
target fer a rebel t 1 shoot et. I'll save committin' suicide, ye know. 

Bar. {dejectedly.) Oi've a moind to do that same thing. Tare 
and ages ! how kin a man foight and court a woman at the same 
toime. Oi'll put no more faith in the female sex afther this. {Ris- 
ing and going l.) It's disgusted Oi am wid the whole race. {Exit 

L. I E.) 

Mrs. N. Dickson, you are too bad. You have destroyed every 
particle of happiness he ever possessed. It takes but little to make 
him jealous, and once in that condition it is hard telling what he 
may do. 

Dick. It won't increase his bravery, I'll bet two dollars. {Guns 
heard more frequently .) Reckon them fellers over there must be 
shootin' et a mark. {Looking off R.) Hello ! somethin's up. 
{Crosses to R., and looks off.) 



28 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 

{Shouts of ' ■ Fall in Company G I Fall in ! Fall in I " heard off r.) 

Frank {rushing in from r. 3 e). Fall in Company G ! Fall in ! 
Fall in ! {The cry is taken up and shouted off l.) 

{Soldiers rush for arms. Some rush on from l., grasp guns and 
rush out r. Gratia and Mrs. Nogood cross to l. i e.) 

Bos. {coming down) . Egad! there is to be music. Give it to 
'em, my boy. Give 'em a taste of old New England. 

Par. {hopping abo?it stage, front). Dear me ! dear me ! that my 
visit should lead me into the midst of a battle. I must make myself 
fierce. If a battle is coming, I must make myself fierce. {Strikes 
right and left and shouting.) Bo — 00 — 00 — 00 — Ow — ow 
— ow — 

Frank {laughing). Parson, what are you doing? 

Par. Making myself fierce, my dear boy ; making myself fierce. 

P^rank. Why, parson, you are in perfect safety. The engage- 
ment is far to the right. 

Par. Well, well, it is well to cultivate the nerves for what is 
liable to happen. Ow — ow — 00 — 00 — {Quiets himself down 
slowly.) 

Frank. Do that when danger threatens you. {Crossing to 
Gratia.) Gratia, from this eminence you can watch the progress 
of the fight, if there is one, to good advantage. You will need the 
glass on account of the distance. The guard will remain with you, 
so have no fears for your safety. 

Gratia. You will not expose yourself needlessly, will you, 
Frank ? 

Frank. I go where duty calls. I trust, though, to meet you 
soon. Until then, farewell. 

Mrs. N. Have you seen Amasa, captain ? 

Frank. Not since morning. Believe me, he is making himself 
useful somewhere. Time is precious, so again farewell. (Kisses 
her hand.) 

Gratia. Not farewell ; but good-by for a short season. 
(Frank crosses r.) 

Frank. Father, remain here and watch the progress of the 
fight. The glass will aid you materially. 

Bos. Egad! if it wasn't for this game leg — Well, well, off 
with you, my boy ! Off with you ! 

Bar. {rushing in from l.). O captain! will yees nade me in 
the foight ? Oi'm not feeling me best to-day. 

Frank. Every man is wanted at once. Hurry to the front. 
Here — follow me. {Exit R. 3 E.) 

Bar. {moving off very slowly) . OiTl be roight afther you, cap- 
tain. Don't be afther waiting for me if yees are in a hurry. OiTl be 
there in toime to protect the rare. {Exit slowly r. i e. Gratia 
and Mrs. Nogood cross to r. and look off.) 

Par. {who has passed to r. 3 e. and is looking off). I declare! 



THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G 29 

how quickly they form themselves into shape. Each man actually 
knows his own position as perfectly as an ox its own side of the 
yoke. It is truly wonderful ! 

Gratia. It is the result of training, father. 

Par. Yes, yes ; and the training renders it all the more won- 
derful. How men who are endowed with intelligence can so 
readily convert themselves into human machines is beyond the 
limits of my comprehension. But they do it, and recklessly expose 
themselves to bullets and shells and other weapons of destruction, 
in spite of the knowledge that death and eternity are behind them. 

Mrs. N. Many pale faces go into battle, parson. Farewell 
letters are written and prayers are uttered by men with weeping 
eyes and aching hearts ; but when the word is given, you will ever 
find them at the front. 

Bos. Egad ! give me a regiment of weeping soldiers and I'll 
conquer an army. Men who shake and tremble, but with faces 
dogged and determined, will fight like demons. Have noticed it a 
thousand times. {Looking off.) Ah — ha! now they are at a 
double-quick. Down through the valley they go like a whirlwind. 

Gratia. Yes ; and other companies follow from different direc- 
tions. They seem to be centring to some point that is out of 
sight there behind the hills. 

Bos. The rebel batteries are their objective point of attack. 
They are doubtless massing for that purpose. When the assault is 
made it will bring them into bold relief. 

Gratia. And were it not for the horrors of the reality it would 
be an imposing spectacle. Thank God ! the distance is so great 
that the shrieks of the mangled and dying will not be heard. 

Mrs. N. Ah, but they will be there just the same. 

Par. I hardly think a human being will ever survive to cross 
that open space. The deadly fire from the enemy's guns will mow 
them down like grass before the scythe. 

Bos. Pooh ! pooh ! Our boys will rush into their works like a 
swarm of bees. Some will fall — reasonable they should ; but there 
are others to fill their places. Egad ! my sight is so dim that 
things run together. What do you observe ? 

Gratia. Smoke over the rebel works, and smoke above the 
hills beyond which our boys are massing. Also wreaths of smoke 
from projectiles passing through the air. 

Bos. Shells ! shells ! Damme ! if I don't wish myself in their 
midst. {Rushing excitedly to different points and looking off.) 
Where is Company G ? Can you see Company G ? 

Gratia. They disappeared some moments ago. There are 
but few men in sight at present. 

Bos. There will be in a few moments. Egad ! there'll be music 
enough in ten minutes to make the earth tremble. Glorious music ! 

Par. Goodness gracious ! are there brass bands as powerful as 
that ? I was not aware — 

Bos. Gun music — gun music, parson. Bursting of shells, 



30 



THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 



rattle of musketry, shrieking of balls, all pandemonium raging 
at once, — that's the music, parson. That's the music to startle 
the air when our noble boys rush over the rebel breastworks. Don't 
the firing increase ? {Heavy guns heard distant.} 

Gratia {looking through glass). It does in a measure, and the 
smoke thickens ; but at intervals it lifts, and everything is discern- 
ible. I think I should recognize the faces of those I knew if they 
came under the glass. 

Bos. Then follow Company G. Keep your eyes upon that 
company and you'll see fighting. Egad ! how the cannons boom ! 
What's that ? what's that ? A large body of men seem to be mov- 
ing forward. Look ! are they the bluecoats? Look quick ! 

Gratia. I see a large body of men emerging from behind the 
hill. They seem to be forming themselves into lines. 

Bos. (excited). Where is Company G ? Where are the brave 
boys located ? 

Gratia. I fail to discover them among the masses. 

Bos. Egad! I must find them. Here! give me the glass. 
(Takes glass.) I must separate the brave boys from the rest of the 
soldiers. (Looks through glass in every directioti but the right one.) 
They should be front — first and foremost in the front rank. 
Damme ! what's the matter ? Everything is a blank. 

Gratia. Excuse me, Mr. Bosworth, but you are looking at the 
sky. The soldiers are in that direction. (Points off r. u. e.) 

Bos. Yes, yes ; I know where they are. I was bringing the 
glass down by degrees. (Unintentionally reverses glass and looks 
through small end.) I know where the brave boys are located. 
Egad ! could I miss the direction of Company G ? Well, what's 
the matter now? What's the matter with the glass ? 

Par. My dear Bosworth, you are looking through it at the 
wrong end. 

Bos. Hey ? Well, what's the difference. Here ! take the 
pesky thing. (Gives glass to Gratia.) It is worse than no eyes 
at all. Look quick ! What do you discover now ? 

Gratia (looking through glass). There are soldiers in the back- 
ground who seem to remain motionless. 

Bos. Reserves — probably reserves. What about the lines ? 

Gratia. They seem to be pressing rapidly forward across the 
open plain. 

Bos. (all show exciterfient . Sound of small guns and heavy 
guns distant. Guard looks off with the rest) . Yes ; I can see them. 
Egad ! I can see them with the naked eye. See them rushing 
forward like an avalanche. No power can stop them. No power 
under heaven. 

Mrs. N. It is a horrible yet magnificent spectacle. I wonder 
if my poor boy is among them ? 

Par. Some of them will surely be sacrificed unless they use the 
utmost caution. 

Bos. Egad ! of course they will. Of course they will be sacri- 



THE PRIDE OF COMTANY G. 3 1 

ficed — hundreds of them. Could they press forward under that 
galling fire and not be sacrificed ? They exhibit courage — cour- 
age and heroism combined. It takes men to stand a fire like that 
— men of pluck and mettle. {Shading his eyes and looking off.) 
What's the matter with them ? They appear to stand motionless. 

Gratia (looking through glass). Yes; the lines are wavering. 
They seem to be disordered and are falling back. 

Bos. (rushing excitedly around stage). It's a lie! It's a lie! 
The bluecoats can't fall back. Where is Company G? No power 
in heaven or on earth could turn them. 

Mrs. N. Remember, captain, they are exposed to a terrible fire. 

Bos. (wildly). Don't care — don't care if they are. Noth- 
ing could stop Company G. Nothing, only death to the last man. 
What do you discover now? 

Gratia (upon high seat down r. c. looking off). They still 
seem to be disordered and falling back. All seems to be confusion 
so far as I can discern along the line. There ! down goes the stars 
and stripes. 

Bos. Down — down where? where are the stars and stripes? 

Gratia. Fallen to the ground. Wait ! There ! they are float- 
ing again. Another has picked them up. Why ! if I am not mis- 
taken, it is the soldier who sat here by the fire. I could almost 
converse with him, I can see him so plainly in the glass. Oh ! 
(Utters cry.) 

Bos. What's the matter now ? 

Gratia. He has fallen — fallen to the earth, and the flag has 
gone with him. (Puts down glass.) I can look no longer. The 
sight is too terrible. 

Bos. Here ! give me the glass. (Snatches glass quickly.) 
Egad ! were I among them, I'd shoot down the first man who re- 
treated. (Using glass awkwardly.) I can't see with the pesky 
thing. (Looks up and down and in different directions.) Dam- 
me! but for my game leg — Here, parson, take this machine, 
quick! (Hands glass to Parson.) I could see better through a 
plugged port-hole. What are they doing? (Parson puts glass 
to his ear.) No ! no ! no ! that's not an ear trumpet. Here ! put 
it to your eye. 

Par. I declare! I forgot myself entirely. (Trying to use 
glass.) I do believe I am so agitated that I shall find myself 
unable to draw a focus. (Looking off.) Dear me ! dear me ! when 
I do get them, they seem so near that I am actually afraid of the 
bullets. (Takes glass from his eyes.) 

Gratia. Father, give back the glass. I will do my best to 
watch them. 

Bos. That's right! That's right, girl! (Gratia takes glass 
and looks off.) Well, what do you see ? 

Gratia. All is confusion. Officers are running to and fro as if 
frantic. 

Bos. What about the flag ! Can you see it? 



32 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 

Gratia. Yes ; but whoever has it is moving toward the rear. 
Everybody is retreating, as seen within range of the glass. There ! 
the flag has gone down again. That makes three color-bearers 
who have fallen. Wait ! a man is pressing toward it. A man 
without hat, coat, or vest. Why, mercy upon me ! it is Amasa — 
Amasa Nogood. There he has grasped it — he lifts it up — he un- 
furls it to the breeze. Captain Bosworth, the old flag is waving 
once more. 

Mrs. N. {clasping her hands). May the good Lord protect 
him ! 

Bos. {grasping Gratia by the arm*). Tell me quick, girl. 
What does Amasa do ; advance, or retreat? 

Gratia. He advances. He is gesticulating wildly and rushing 
forward alone. No — another joins him. Ah! I know that sol- 
dier — it is Dickson. Yes; 1 am positive that is Dickson. There 
goes another — an officer. Oh! heavens! it is Frank. Mr. Bos- 
worth, it is your own son. 

Bos. (dancing about and shouting). Hurrah! hurrah! a chip 
of the old block. A Bosworth with a double B. (Shouting as if 
giving off orders.) Give it to 'em, Frank ! Give 'em hell — lelujah ! 
Drive 'em from the battery! Egad ! but for this game leg — well, 
well, girl; go on — go on. 

Gratia. Others follow. Not dozens, but hundreds — ay, 
thousands. The whole mass have halted, turned, and are now 
rushing across that open plain like a whirlwind. Not in lines 
arranged in perfect order as at first, but almost in one solid body. 
On they rush toward where the rebel flag is floating in the distance. 
Dozens of them are falling, but the rest do not falter. Ahead of 
them is smoke — clouds of smoke from the guns of the enemy. 
Amasa reaches it with the flag still waving — he plunges in — others 
follow — the old flag is lost to view. 

Bos. Egad ! that boy should be made brigadier-general. I 
made a mistake, a grave mistake. 

Gratia. There ! I can see the top of the flag above the smoke. 
On — on it moves, close up to the rebel works. There is no halt- 
ing this time — no turning back. Now I can see the bluecoats. 
On they go, up and over, and down among the guns. They are 
fighting with the rebels, hand to hand. Can you not see them, 
captain. 

Bos. Can't tell one from 'tother. Egad ! but for this game leg. 
Well, well, go on, girl, go on. 

Mrs. N. Can you still see my boy? Is he safe? 

Gratia. I can see the flag and around it a surging mass of 
humanity. It sways and staggers like a ship in a heavy sea. Now 
it lifts again — it plunges forward. Ah ! the rebels are falling 
back. Yes, it is Amasa who is still supporting the flag. He is 
pressing onward — upward. Ah ! he is climbing to where the 
rebel colors are floating in the breeze. I knew that would be his 
objective point ! There ! he has reached them. Now he 



THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 33 

grasps the rebel staff — tears down the colors — hurls them upon 
the ground beneath. Look ! he plants the stars and stripes — His 
done — hurrah ! the old flag is floating above the rebel Palmetto. 

Bos. {dancing around and shouting). Hurrah! hurrah! for 
Amasa Nogood. What an old fool I was. 

Par. {imitating Bosworth) . Hurrah ! hurrah ! you were a 
confounded old fool. 

Gratia {still looking with glass). Oh ! what means that ? 
He throws up his arms — he totters — he is falling backward. 
{Drops glass and covers her face with her hands.) Enough ! 
enough ! I can look no longer. 

Mrs. N. Oh Amasa ! Amasa ! If they have killed my boy, 
then I am left alone. {Crosses to Gratia and throws her arms 
around her.) 

Bos. Egad! 'tis a noble death. A glorious death. I would 
give worlds to fall in an act like that. 

Gratia. It is possible he is not dead, Mrs. Nogood, only 
wounded. Let us hope for the best. 

Bos. The firing at this end of the line has ceased. What do 
you make of it ? Have the boys taken the works ? 

Par. The appearances would indicate that they had. It must 
have been a terrible battle. No doubt a second Marathon or du- 
plicate battle of Waterloo. 

Bos. Pooh ! pooh ! merely a sharp engagement. What we 
have observed was only the right wing. Comparatively speaking, 
only a few hundred men engaged. A fierce fight while it lasted, 
and a bloody one ; but the main battle was out of sight. Com- 
pany G, though, should be proud of her laurels. She turned the 
tide — virtually turned a defeat into a victory. 

Gratia. Not Company G, Mr. Bosworth ; but Amasa Nogood. 
He won the laurels ; but he is not of your company. 

Bos. Ahem ! ahem ! well — yes. Damme ! That's so ! that's so ! 
He shall have the credit. Egad! if it wasn't for his humpback — 
Well, well, what's the difference ! what's the difference ! I made a 
great mistake. 

Bar. {outside). May the mither of mercy protect me. 
{Enters R. I e.) Och ! it's kilt Oi am entoirly. 

Par. I declare! you make considerable noise for a man who is 
entirely dead. Is your wound considered dangerous? 

Bar. Arrah ! Oi'm not wounded in the flesh, sor. The Holy 
Virgin protected me from the bullets. The wound Oi recaved was 
to me feelings, sor. 

Bos. Man, look here ; were you in the fight? 

Bar. Oi just came from this end of it, sor ; yis, sor. 

Bos. Haven't had time. The battery was just taken. 

Bar. Oi hurried, sor. Having the gun shot out of me hands, 
just afther firing the last cartridge, sor, and wid nothing left to 
foight with, Oi thought Oi moight be in the way and so started for 
camp. 



34 



THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 



Bos. {approaching Barney and opening his cartridge box). 
How is this ? Not a cartridge gone. The box is full. 

Bar. {scratching his head). Begorra! there's something quare 
about that. Oi've read of vultures feeding upon men whose flesh 
grew faster than they could ate it, and of craychurs whose legs, 
when severed, would grow out again ; but Oi don't understand how 
a cartridge box whin empty kin replenish itself. It bates the fiddle 
that played widout hands, sor. 

Bos. You're a coward, sir, a consummate coward. You should 
be put in the guard-house. Damme ! you should be court-martialled. 
{Goes down stage and converses with Mrs. Nogood and Gratia.) 

Bar. Yis, sor; all roight, sor. 

Par. {approaching Barney, who stands c. front). Is it pos- 
sible you had the audacity to desert your company ?> 

Bar. Shure, and was you iver in battle, sor ? 

Par. I must admit, literally speaking, I was not ; but my sym- 
pathy has followed those connected with battles, or have inclined 
in that direction quite frequently. 

Bar. Begorra! so have moine ; and it's much swater to be there 
in sympathy thin to be there meself. Just thry it, sor. 

Par. I hardly think it will be necessary. In fact, my profession 
is adverse to such things, even were I favorably inclined. Had I 
enlisted in my youth, however, it is possible that I might have 
developed into a model soldier. 

Bar. Yis, you moight, sor. It's safer to be a model soldier 
thin a rale one. Oi'm of the same moind meself, sor. 

Par. Do you not consider yourself highly honored by being a 
soldier ? 

Bar. Yeez may call it honor, sor, if being killed, buried unwept 
and unknown wid a slab over your grave and a number on it, kin 
make it ; but Oi want none of it meself. 

Par. Then you actually admit that you were not in the engage- 
ment we have just witnessed ? 

Bar. Oi thought Oi was there, until the ould captain said Oi 
wasn't ; now Oi hardly know, sor. 

Par. Well, well, it does seem strange how the excitement of 
war will turn the brains of the most intelligent. So excited do 
men become as to actually forget whether they have been in battle, 
or at the time were hidden away in some secure retreat. {Going 
down stage.) It does seem strange — wonderfully strange. 

Bar. '{watching him off. Aside, angrily). Divil take him! 
what does he know about a foight, anyhow? Shure, does he think 
Oi'll risk me own neck for that of a nagur's ? Oi'm not so foolish 
as that. It's a could day whin Barney Ryan protects the Union in 
front of an inimy wid loaded guns. {Goes to l. arid seats himself 
near fi re.) 

Bos. {looking off). The brave boys are returning; at least a 
portion of them. We will soon learn the result of the engagement. 



THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 35 

Mrs. N. And whether my poor boy is living or dead. There is 
work in store for me; but before going, I would learn his fate. If 
permitted, I would seek him out upon the held. 

Gratia. Fear not, Mrs. Nogood. Your son, if alive, will be 
tenderly cared for. No man would be left neglected after perform- 
ing an act like that which Amasa has performed to-day. Even now 
the litter-bearers have begun their mournful task. 

Mrs. N. Then I must hasten away at once. (Starts l.) 

Gratia (detaining her) . Wait ! a soldier of Company G is 
returning. Let us hear his report. 

(Enter Second Soldier from r. 3 e. He is without coat or hat, 
and looks dusty and tired.) 

Bos. (grasping his hand). Egad! you are one of the boys. 
One to be proud of. You've got the grit — the mettle — the smell 
of powder about you. Gad ! a typical soldier of Company G. 

Par. (trying to grasp left hand with which Soldier is holding 
gun). Yes; you are one of the boys. As Brother Bosworth has 
intimated, you've got the sand. Indeed, it is a pleasure to grasp 
you by the hand, though I must admit that an application of soap 
and water would make them more presentable. 

Bar. (aside). They kin soft-soap and water him all they have a 
moind. Oi want none of it meself. 

Mrs. N. Can you inform me of the fate of my poor boy? Is he 
alive or dead ? 

Second S. Well, when I get command of the floor, 111 explain. 
I was hurried forward by Captain Bosworth to inform you that he 
was safe, and would return soon as convenient. Amasa is alive; 
but badly wounded. That boy is a hero, if God ever made 
one ! 

Mrs. N. Are they taking good care of him ? 

Second S. Care of him ? Well, I should say they was. He's 
the idol of the day. No man at this moment stands higher in the 
estimation o 1 soldiers, or them as holds the positions o' command, 
than Amasa Nogood. He's won a reputation that'll stick to him 
like a nail to a plank. 

Gratia. What have they done with him? 

Second S. Bringing him this way. They are taking him by a 
path that ain't so pesky rough as the open fields.' Captain Bosworth 
and Dickson are with him. D'ye know that Dickson is a trump? 
To hear him talk you'd call him the greatest coward on earth. He 
was the first man to leap the rebel breastworks. 

Bos. A coward in camp, a hero in battle. I've said it before. 
How was the fight beyond the hills? 

Second S. The enemy was driven back, sir. It was a sharp 
fight while it lasted; but I'm thinking the main battle is yet to be 
fought. (Perceiving Barney.) How in thunder did you get 
here? 

Bar. The same way as yourself; wid me feet, sor. 



36 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 

Second S. Were you in the fight ? 

Bar. Oi was in the most of it, sor; wid the exception of what 
Oi wasn't in. 

Bos. Egad ! he's a disgrace to Company G. I called Dickson a 
calf, when — damme! he was a lion. I got the two mixed up. 
This is the calf here. He never saw the battle; he was a skulker, 
sir. 

Bar. {aside). The much that Oi did see was too much for me 
faylings whoile it lasted. 

{Shouts off R . gradually growing nearer) . 

Par. {looking off r. Others look off) . Here they come ! Here 
they come ! The young captain is leading them directly toward this 
locality. 

Bos. {rubbing his hands joy f idly). A-a-ah ! I shall be glad to 
meet him. I shall be proud to welcome him. He has conducted 
himself nobly — handsomely. The boy has done honor to his 
position. 

Frank {outside) . Make room ! Make room for the hero of the 
day ! {Enters R. 3 e.) Father, your hand. (Bosworth grasps 
his hand firmly .) 

Bos. Egad ! I'm proud of you, my boy. A duplicate of your 
father in every respect. You are sure to make your mark — sure 
of it, I say. 

Frank. Father, do not flatter me. Parson — shake. {They 
shake hands.) The danger is over. 

Par. I declare — 

Frank {turning quickly to Gratia). Gratia, you now must 
welcome my return with a kiss. (Gratia kisses him.) Mrs. 
Nogood, as you have already been informed, your son is wounded. 
How severely, we cannot as yet determine. It was his earnest re- 
quest to be brought into this camp, therefore we are obeying his 
wishes. They are near at hand. 

{Shouts of " Make roo?n for the hero I Make room far Amasa 
Nogood I " heard outside. Soldiers enter R. 3 e., and form them- 
selves into lines up and down stage L. and r. Soldiers should 
look rough and tired. Barney rises and crosses to l. i e. 
Second Soldier enters line r. Bosworth, Parson, Gratia, and 
Mrs. Nogood down stage r. c. Frank, c, places soldiers in 
position. If military band is in attendance, they should enter 
before soldiers, and divide, half forming R. c. and half l. c. down 
stage. Soldiers enter with Amasa upon litter. He is covered 
with U.S. flag. Dickson walks beside him. Frank conducts 
them down stage c, where litter is placed in an inclined position, so 
Amasa can be seen by audience. Mrs. Nogood clasps his hand. 
Frank stands behind and slightly elevated above him.) 



THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 37 

Position of Characters. 
Band. Band. 



Frank Bosworth. 

Bos. > Mrs. N. 

> 

Par. ?* Gratia. 



Dick. 
R. L. 

Frank {when all are arranged). Captain Bosworth, soldiers, 
and all others present; with a wounded comrade before us, for 
as comrade I will designate him, 1 cannot dally with words. This 
much I will state : No flag is more dear to the hearts of the Amer- 
ican people than the grand, glorious, and ever-welcomed stars and 
stripes ; and no hero was ever better qualified to be enwrapped in 
their generous folds than he who lies wounded before you — the 
lion of the day — the citizen, and not the soldier — the bold, the 
brave, the unassuming Amasa Nogood. 

{All shout " Three cheers for Amasa Nogood, .") 

Bos. {extending his hand, which is taken by Amasa). D-d- 
damme ! my boy, I'm speechless. I can't address you in the proper 
language. I admire you. Doggast it! I envy you your position. 
Yes, sir, and saying that, I've said enough. With another com- 
pany to organize, I — I — Fd accept men of your mould if they were 
crooked as the bow of heaven. Damme ! if I wouldn't, sir. 

Amasa. I have only done my duty. And, in performing that 
duty, have endeavored to show that even a hunchback may not be 
born in vain. 

{Band plays military air as Act closes with Tableau.) 
SLOW CURTAIN. 



38 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 



ACT III. 

Scene. — Village lawn. Set trees L. and r. Stage decorated 
with U.S. flags and flowers to suit the taste. A canopied seat c. 
back decorated with flags and tastefully arranged. Rustic benches 
at r. and l., and one ?iear c. Entrances R. and l. As curtain 
rises, Bosworth and Parson enter R. 3 e. Bosworth is dressed 
in uniform^ atid Parson in plain suit of black. 

Bos. Everything is arranged in A 1 style. The ox is baked, the 
tables are prepared, and the noble boys will be welcomed in regal 
shape ; that is, what there is left of them. 

Par. Alas ! how terribly mutilated they are. Some minus an 
arm, some minus a leg, some wounded here, and some there, more 
than half of them dead, and the balance of them so ragged as to 
almost debar them from society. 

Bos. Egad! show me the society to debar them. They are the 
pets of society. The noble defenders of our country are the idols 
of society. 

Par. Yes, yes ; they have the appreciation of the general pub- 
lic, I am willing to admit. These flags, and flowers, and well-filled 
tables are conclusive evidence that the soldiers have engendered 
themselves deeply into the hearts of the American people. I ap- 
preciate them myself; though I would strongly advocate that war 
be conducted without bloodshed, if possible. 

Bos. Egad ! a warfare conducted without bloodshed would be a 
novelty, that's a fact. No blood at Gettysburg, no lives lost at the 
Wilderness or Spottsylvania Court House. Ha! ha! ha! a grand 
national parade gotten up at the expense of the people. Parson, 
you are demented ! Damme ! you wouldn't be fit to engineer an 
infants 1 crusade. Well, well, the war is ended — ended after a 
mighty struggle of five years. Who would have thought it ! 

Par. The rebellion has extended beyond our expectations, I 
must admit. We little realized, when visiting camp in '62, how 
obstinate those Southerners could be. The end has arrived, how- 
over, and soon the remnant of Company G will be our honored 
guests. 

Bos. Egad! won't they? Won't they be honored guests? 
{Rubbing his hands exultingly .) Won't they be equal to the high- 
est potentates of the land ? I can hardly contain myself until they 
are ushered in. Well, well, let us continue our inspections. 
{They cross to l. 3 e. and meet Barney and Bridget coming in.) 
Here ! why are you not with your company ? 

Bar. Bridget and Oi was just looking at the tables, sor. Oi 
was just returning to me place. That's a noice fat baked ox you 
have out there, sor. {Advances c. with Bridget.) 

Bos. Yes ; and little of it you deserve too. {To Parson.) 
That is one soldier upon whom I look with disgust. , - 



THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 39 

Par. In opposition to the argument we advanced a few mo- 
ments ago, a line can be drawn even among soldiers. Though, as 
I understand it, Irishmen in general are brave and courageous 
fighters. 

Bos. Yes ; but a cowardly one is the chief of all cowards. {They 
exeunt l. 3 e.) 

Bridget. Why is it, Barney, that the old captain speaks to you 
so crossly? 

Bar. It is jealous of me he is. 
Bridget. Jealous, Barney? 

Bar. Yis ; hearing of the noble deeds Oi performed, the ould 
gintleman is afraid of thim promoting me to a position higher thin 
himself. 

Bridget. Is there any danger of that, Barney? 
Bar. Not just at present. The man who foights the hardest is 
apt to get left. It's just the same in love as in everything else. 
Bridget. Shure, now, what do you mane by that? 
Bar. Be aisy, now, and Oi'll make meself understood. Whoile 
Oi was foighting and dying for me counthry, and slayping upon the 
cold, wet ground wid no pillow but me knapsack, and dhreaming 
of home and thim the dearest to me heart, yeez was walking wid 
O'Harry by moonlight, and giving the kisses that belonged to meself. 
Bridget {looking down sheepishly, and twisting comer of her 
afirofi). Shure, it was only once in a while, Barney. 

Bar. {crossing excitedly to l.) . Arrah ! thin the thing is a fact, 
is it? 

Bridget {remaining c.). He just kissed me once in a while. 
Bar. What the divil did he kiss you once in a whoile for? 
Bridget. If yeez had been killed, Barney, I should have been 
left alone. 

Bar. Tare and ages ! what of that? 

Bridget. I was keeping him in case you niver came back. 
Bar. Well ! 

Bridget. And when he kissed me I tried to imagine it was my 
own soldier, Barney. 

Bar. {drawing nearer). Was you thrying to imagine that ? 
Bridget. Shure and I was, Barney. 
Bar. What was you thrying to imagine that for ? 
Bridget. Just to get some enjoyment from the kiss. 
Bar. {aside). Begorra ! that must be kissing by proxy. 
{Aloud.) Well, did yeez make your imagination a success? 
Bridget. Yis, Barney. 
Bar. And yeez kissed him in return? 

Bridget. Once in a while — wid the impression that it was 
yourself, remimber. 

Bar. Thin yeez was a kissing him for me? 
Bridget. I thried to imagine that, Barney. 
Bar. Well, now Oi'm returned are yeez intending to kapeupthe 
imagination ? 



40 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 

Bridget. No, Barney. It is yourself I am wanting, and no 
other. 

Bar. And yeez will be afther telling him he is no longer 
wanted? 

Bridget. I told him that this morning, Barney, whin the sol- 
diers returned, 

Bar. {rushing up and throwing his arms around her). 
Arrah ! you're a swate craychure. Shure, and it's yourself what 
knows the difference between a soldier and a common citizen. 
{Kissing her. Drum heard off R.) Arrah ! they are calling the 
soldiers together. Oi must be off to place meself in position. 
{Exit with Bridget l. 3 e.) 

(Parson and Bosworth enter l. 3 e.) 

Par. It is strange what remarkable taste the ladies have dis- 
played in arranging the grounds for this grand reception. In every 
direction the eye is fascinated with artistic decorations that are 
simply wonderful. Then the viands appear so luscious, and the 
odors from them are so fragrant, that they tickle my palate, al- 
though I am troubled with dyspepsia in its worst form. At the 
same time, when we stop to think of those who will necessarily be 
absent, those who sleep in unknown yet honored graves, it throws 
over this grand ovation a mournful mantle of sadness. 

Bos. We do honor to the living first, and to the dead after- 
wards. So long as a veteran of this rebellion shall survive, the 
dead soldiers will be remembered and their graves decorated 
with flowers. A dead soldier is not forgotten, sir. 

Par. Ah — no; and the memory of an acknowledged hero is 
well nigh imperishable. I hardly know when I have been so vis- 
ibly affected as I was upon learning of the death of poor Amasa 
Nogood. What a noble specimen of a soldier he was. So brave, 
so magnanimous, and so sacrificing. 

Bos. Egad ! there should be more like him. The flag he so 
nobly planted above the Confederate Palmetto is conspicuous in 
our command. It contains his name and a tribute to his memory. 
Damme ! if I don't wish he was here to support it. 

Par. Yes, yes ; but that is impossible. What an unselfish act 
that was he performed at Andersonville. In my mind it contained 
more real bravery than the heroism he displayed upon the field of 
battle. 

Bos. In a measure — yes. In the disaster at Winchester he 
was among the number captured. Afterwards came the parole to 
one out of every six prisoners, which same was to be determined by 
ballot. Though he drew the lucky number, he persistently and de- 
terminedly forced it upon my boy, and then remained to die in that 
sink hole of perdition. ( Wiping his eyes.) Egad ! if my pride had 
contained more common-sense at the beginning — 

Par. Well, well, my dear Bosworth, it is too late for regrets 



THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 41 

now. We were both proud of Company G, and sought to give it a 
presentable appearance. We miscalculated the magnitude of the 
rebellion and the power it would take to overthrow it. We doted 
upon appearances, perhaps, more than upon quality. Still, we 
have nothing to be ashamed of. The wretched and dilapidated 
appearance of the remnants to-day is evidence enough that our 
confidence was worthily bestowed. Yet, as you started to remark, 
if Amasa had been accepted as one of the volunteers, it would have 
been a wonderful relief upon our minds at the present moment. 

Gratia {enters l. 3 e. followed by Mrs. Nogood). Well, 
captain, the last touch has been given, and you can march in the 
company at your own will and pleasure. 

Bos. Egad! I am ready. Mrs. Nogood, that canopied seat 
{points c.) has been constructed to the memory of your boy. 
That I refused him as a volunteer, and that his sensitiveness for- 
bade him to accept promotion afterwards, I deeply regret. I can 
do no more at present. In honor to his bravery he has been bre- 
veted Colonel, by which title he will be referred to in the future. 
You, as his mother, will receive marked distinction from the com- 
pany, not only in honor to his memory, but for your noble services 
among the wounded. 

Mrs. N. For the honor bestowed upon my boy the ones con- 
cerned have already received my heartfelt thanks. Beyond that, I 
hardly consider myself worthy of your consideration. 

Bos. We will settle that question ourselves. 

Par. Yes ; as friend Bosworth would remark — 

Bos. No more speeches at present, parson. Let us go and 
escort in the brave boys of Company G. 

Par. Yes, yes, that is the wisest course, I must confess. (Bos- 
worth and Parson exeunt r. 3 e. followed by Gratia and Mrs. 
Nogood.) 

{Music. Cheers heard off R., and confusion of voices. Band 
heard distant, then nearer, after which it enters R. 3 E., crosses stage 
and off l. 3 e., and plays until distant again. Behind them in twos , 
follow Bosworth and Parson, Frank and Gratia, Color-bear- 
er and Mrs. Nogood, Dickson and soldier, and others in succes- 
sion. Barney and Bridget bring up the rear, followed by the 
crowd. The soldiers are ragged and wretched looking, so?ne with 
crutches, some showing but one leg, and some but one arm. 
Dickson is minus an arm. Citizens, at intervals, should be seen 
clinging to soldiers as line passes. Confusion for some mome?its 
off 1,. after line passes. Jim and Joe, two urchins, enter R. 3 E.) 

Jim {looking off l.). Say, Joe, don't yer wish yer wus a sojer? 
Joe. I'm goin' ter be one some time. 
Jim. Don't yer wish yer wus one now? 
Joe. What fer? 

Jim. So's ter muckle in ter them pies and cakes. Yum ! yum ! 
I kin almost taste 'em now. 



42 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 

Joe. Let's hang around an' take the leavings. 

Jim. Ther won't be any. They'll eat 'em all up. Them sojers 
look jest holler enough ter swaller the hull ox, the pies an' cakes, 
an 1 the hull darned thing. My dad's among 'em. 

Joe. So's mine. Hain't got only one arm, nuther. Can't 
horsewhip me now only with his left hand, an 1 that won't hurt. I'll 
bet he made the rebels howl when he got arter 'em. 

Jim. Shucks! he wern't no braver then my dad wus. 

Joe. Yes he wus, too, 'cause he lost an arm. 

Jim. What 'er that? My dad hed seventeen bullets shot through 
his coat in the fust battle. 

Joe. So did mine. 'N 'e killed four rebels arter his arm wus 
shot off. 

Jim. How'd he do that? 

Joe. Held the gun in his left hand an' pulled the trigger with 
his right. 

Jim. How could he pull the trigger with his right hand when it 
wus shot off. 

Joe. Hey? 

Jim. When his right hand wus gone how could he use it to pull 
the trigger? 

Joe. Why, hold it in his teeth, er course. 

Jim. Who said he could do that? 

Joe. Dad said so hisself. Don't think he'd lie about it, do yer? 

Jim. Yes, sir, I do. Anyhow, it ain't half so great a feat as my 
dad done. Arter shootin' six rebels with the same bullet at one 
shot, it struck a cannon, an 1 glancin 1 off, struck a beech-tree, an 1 
glancin' back, went right inter the gun again. 

Joe. How'd 'e know 'twas the same bullet? 

Jim. Had his name stamped on it; how d'ye s'pose? 

Joe. Did yer dad say he done that? 

Jim. Yes, he did. Don't think he'd lie about it, do yer? 

Joe. Reckon if yer dad said he done all that, he's an old liar. 

Jim {walking tip to him with clinched fists) . Yer mean ter call 
my dad a liar? 

Joe. Yes, I do ; an' I ain't afraid ter back it, nuther. 

Jim. Then you kin look out, 'cause I'm a-comin'. {They have 
rough -an d-t u m b I e fight.} 

Joe {holding Jim down and choking hint). Will yer call my dad 
the bravest if I'll let yer up? 

Jim. Yes ; I'll say it. 

Joe. Then why don't yer? {Chokes hint.) 

Jim. 'Cause yer chokin' me. Say ! your dad's the bravest man 
I ever knew, exceptin' one. 

Joe. Whose is that? 

Jim. My dad. {] of. chokes him.) Hold on ! Hold on! It ain't 
so. You've got the bravest dad I ever knew. 

Joe {letting up 071 him). Yer mean it, don't yer? 

Jim. Didn't I say so? (Joe releases him, wheti they clinch 



THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 43 

\ 
again, and Jim reverses the order.) There, darn ye! Now whose 
dad's the bravest ? Say ? 

Joe. Yer jest stop this, now. Let me up. 

Jim. Say my dad's the bravest 'n I will. 

Joe. Yer let me up, darn ye ! 

Jim. Say my dad's the bravest, then. 

Joe. Er course your dad's the bravest. 

Jim. Will yer say so if I'll let yer up? 

Joe. Er course I will. (Jim lets him up, when they clinch and 
struggle again. Finally Jim breaks away and runs (?/r. 3 e.) 
Go ter thunder ! {Shouts after him.) Say! you're runnfrvjest as 
yer dad did in the war. {Coming down stage.) Reckon he wus 
lyin' jest the same as I wus. {Looking off r.) My gosh ! there 
comes the darndest lookin' old tramp I ever see'd. Reckon I'd 
better git out er here if I want a hull skin. No I won't nuther. 
'Tain't more 'n ten rods ter the sojers, an' if he touches me I'll yell 
bloody murder. {Backs up to l. 3 e., looking first off R. and 
then l.) 

(Am asa Nogood enters slowly r. 3 e. He walks with cane, is 
extre?nely ragged, looks emaciated, and altogether is a perfect 
picture of wretchedness. Approaching to C. of stage, he stops atid 
looks around .) 

Amasa. Who would recognize in my shambling gait and emaci- 
ated frame the man who, years ago, was noted for his athletic feats. 
Even my humped back has seemed to shrink and shrivel up beneath 
the awful horrors of that Libby pen. Yet, while others died, and 
none survived of those I knew, that strength has buoyed me up and 
saved me from a lingering death. Yet, what a wreck I am ! {Look- 
ing at himself.) What a shattered, broken, and physical wreck 
I am! 

Joe {aside). Reckon that old bummer must be crazy. By 
gosh ! I wish I knew. 

Amasa. The soldiers have been discharged, it seems, and this 
is their home reception. Well, I will not molest them. The hunch- 
back, in his rags and tatters and prison filth, and as a common 
citizen, would be out of place among accepted soldiers. Then, 
again, I might break the alignment. {Turns to go off R.) 

Joe. Guess he's goin' oft now. Darned if I don't hope so ! I'll 
keep an eye on'im, 'cause if I don't he'll steal the hull common. 
He didn't' see me, an' I'm glad of it. By thunder ! he's comin' back ! 

Amasa {turning toward l.). That mother for whom I seek is 
most likely among the soldiers. Alas ! she cannot expect that I 
am still alive, and therefore will not look for my return. Before 
going to the cottage, I will approach unobserved, and glance 
around the tables. ( Crosses to L. Encounters Joe, who appears 
frightened.) Be not afraid, my boy, I would not harm you for 
twice your weight in gold. 



44 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 

Joe {shaking). Oh, I — I ain't afeerd. ' Guess I've taken the 
ager frum dad ; 'cause — 'cause he wrote home once that he'd got 
it like sixty. {Stepping aside.) Say ! you want ter go in? 

Amasa. Not just at present. I wish merely to glance at the 
soldiers and others around the table. What is your name, my boy? 

Joe. Oh, my name's Joe — Joe Hackett. Dad's name's' John, 
an' he's a sojer. He's in there now. You kin see him at t'other 
end of the table there, makin' a perfect hog of hisself. 

Amasa. Ah — yes ; brave John they used to call him. He was 
indeed a good soldier. 

Joe. Say ! you know'm? 

Amasa. I knew him once — some years ago. 

Joe. Well, I'll go right in an' tell him you're here, an' want ter 
see'm. {Starts off.) 

Amasa {detaining him). Wait ! I want to question you further 
concerning the soldiers. 

Joe. Are you one on 'em? 

Amasa. No ; at least, my name is not so recorded upon the list. 

Joe. Well, then, there ain't no show. If you wus one of 'em 
you'd git a hunk of that old ox quicker'n a flash. Reckon you'd 
like a piece of it anyhow. Wouldn't ye? 

Amasa. Is the captain of the company in there named Frank 
Bosworth ? 

Joe. Yep. He's the captain. Reckon his old dad run's it 
most of the time, though. Alius acts as if he wanted ter, anyhow. 

Amasa. Is Dickson there, and James Wells, and Job Waiting? 

Joe. Dickson's there, an' with only one arm. Them other two 
fellers wus killed. Why, my ma says that there didn't hafF of the 
company come back. Reckon she knows, 'cause I don't remember. 

Amasa. When was the company discharged ; or rather, when 
did they return home? 

Joe. Terday ; an' when the folks knew they wus a-comin', they 
went ter work an' baked a hull ox ter give 'em. Baked it standin' 
right up too. Ain't much fun about it, though, 'cause — 'cause them 
folks whose sojers didn't come keep a-cryin' about it. 

Amasa. Yes, yes ; there is joy over those soldiers who return, 
and sorrow over those soldiers who return not. It is a reception of 
gladness, and yet one in which much sorrow is intermingled. Yes, 
y es . ( Wiping h is eyes . ) 

Joe. Say, mister! did you lose anybody? Yer — yer seem ter 
be cryin'. 

Amasa. No, no, my boy. My heart was only in sympathy 
with those who mourn. Is there one in there, a woman, named 
Hester Nogood? 

Joe. Why — yes. Say ! her son died in prison. They've given 
her one of the best seats at the table. 

Amasa. Did you say her son died in prison? 

Joe. That's what ma said — starved ter death. Say! yer see 
that seat down there ! {Points to canopied seat down c.) Well, 



THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 45 

sir, they've made it ter his memory ; an 1 the old cap says they 
can't no one else use it, 'cause — 'cause they ain't worthy enough. 
An' he says the meanest thing he ever done wus refusin 1 that No- 
good frum bein' a volunteer. They done it, yer see, 'cause he wus 
out of shape somehow. 

Amasa. Did the old captain truly say what you have just 
uttered? 

Joe. Yep ! 'cause I heerd 'm. Say ! he wus promoted ter some- 
thin' with a C ter it, Colonel or Corperas, I don't know which. 
Anyhow, they've put it in front of his name, an' hitched it ter a flag 
he had somethin' ter do with in a battle. It reads Corperas Nogood, 
or somethin' like that ; an' the old cap says he must be called by 
that term in the future. 

Amasa. Who promoted him? 

Joe. Dunno ; guess it wus the president. Reckon some one 
told him how well Nogood fought, an' so he wanted ter boost him 
up ; but afore Nogood found it out he wus taken pris'ner, an : so 
never knew it. Ill bet he'd given a heap ter know he wus a colonel 
or a corperas afore he died. Don't you? 

Amasa (to himself) . Have they remembered the poor hunch- 
back to this extent ? Alas ! honors are easily conferred with death ; 
but with returning life, would not a quick recision cut them off? 
To receive eternal fame one should die in the midst of success, or 
when his reputation stands the highest. We shall see. We shall 
see. (To Joe.) My boy, mention not the tramp with whom you 
have conversed. The language of such men is of little value, 
though what they say may be exceedingly wise. 

Joe. Well, ain't yer hungry? Say ! hold on, an' I'll go an' ask 
'em for a hunk o' meat. Wait ! some of them sojers is a-comin this 
way. (Amasa starts to hobble offR.) You can't git out er sight, 
so you'd better come back. 

Amasa. Then I will sit down here and await the results. (Hob- 
bles to rustic bench in front of canopied seat and sits down.) 

(Enter from l. 3 e., Dickson, Barney, ^^Bridget, and other 
soldiers and citizens. They scatter to different parts of the stage.) 

Bar. (crossing to R. 1 e. with Bridget). Arrah ! it's a grate 
treat afther foighting for four years to return home and be recaived 
wid an ovation loike this. Shure that was the fhirst comfortable 
meal Oi've sat down to since the day Oi captured a Southerner's 
pantry. You see it happened — (Seating himself , and as he does 
so he perceives Amasa.) Who the divil is that ? (All turn and 
look.) 

Bridget (aside to Barney). Shure that must be the man who 
stole me washing last week. 

Amasa (noticing that he is critically observed). Have no fears, 
my comrades. When sufficiently rested I will move along without 
trouble. 



46 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 

Dick. You call us " comrades." Does thet sorter signify thet 
you're a soldier? 

Amasa. No — no, sir ; but all soldiers are comrades to those 
whose sympathies are akin to theirs. I call you comrades because 
I respect the cause for which you have fought. I am no soldier, 
sir. 

Bar. Shure, and why didn't yeez make wan? 
Amasa. Would they accept me for a soldier, think you? I am 
not of the right shape. Tis such as you, with perfect form and 
fine appearance, who stand first in the rank, and prove the noble 
defenders of their country. I was not wanted. 

Bar. {aside to Bridget). Did yeez hear that, Bridget? He 
presinted me wid a compliment. 
Bridget. Yis ; I heard it. 

Dick, {aside). Durned if thet chap don't put me in mind o' 
somethin 1 I can't think of. {Aloud.) Look a-here, friend, is your 
camp pitched anywheres in these parts ? 

Amasa. The camp of all tramps is where night overtakes them. 
Dick. Jest so. Well, kin I ask where you come f'rm t 1 here? 
Amasa. From the South. 

Dick. Jest where we've come fr'm this mornin'. Hain't been 
galivantin 1 around among th' soldiers, hev ye? 

Amasa. I was allowed the liberty of the North and South ; more 
liberty in the North, however, than in the South. 

Dick. Sort of a privileged character, I should jedge. One ud 

think, though, t 1 look at ye, that you was jest out of a rebel prison. 

Amasa. Looks are very deceptive, comrade. I think those 

prisons contained enough soldiers without adding myself to that 

number. Possibly they contained some of your own company. 

Dick. Some? Well I should reckon they did. Five of our 
men died there, an 1 ef it hadn't been fer th' bravest man God ever 
let live, our captain ud have died there too. 
Amasa. How was that? 

Dick. Well among th' pris'ners taken f'rm our company was a 
hunchback who wern't a soldier exactly, but who jest hung around 
an' fought on his own account. He wus th' bravest cuss you ever 
see'd. " A parole wus gotten up while they wus in Andersonville 
thet wus t' free a lot of 'em by choice o' ballot. Though th' hunch- 
back drew a lucky number, an' our captain didn't, he jest made th' 
captain swap tickets in spite of hisself, an' remained t' fill his place. 
Arterwards he died in Libby 1th a lot of other pris'ners. Now kin 
you relate an act that contained more genuine bravery than that ? 

Amasa. Should it not be the duty of a common soldier, or citi- 
zen even, to sacrifice himself for his superiors, or for those who 
could be of greater benefit to the nation? 

Dick. Well, it might be his duty, but I'll bet two dollars he'd 
be mighty keerful not t' see it. Would you? 

Amasa. I would not care to answer until placed in a similar 
position. 



THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 47 

Dick. Well, ef I had liberty in front o' me, an' a prison pen 
ahind, an' a ticket t' go out on, it ud be a mighty hot day afore I 
surrendered it t' another. I weren't never no blood relation t' 
Damon an' Pythias, as I knows on. 

Bar. {aside). Oi m thinking Oi feel just that same way meself. 

Amasa. You may be a coward, comrade ; but the loss of that 
arm would not indicate it. He who belittles his own prowess is 
more apt to be trusted in battle. 

Dick. I reckon you don't know me, squire, as well as I do my- 
self. I wus so pesky scairt in th' fust battle that I haven't got over 
tastin' it yet. It weren't through bravery that I lost this arm, nuther. 
It wus because I didn't know th' pesky bullet wus a-comin' until 
it had gone past. Somehow a bullet gits t' a man afore he's ready 
t' receive it ; an' when it does, it is purty apt t' create a heap o' 
trouble. How is it, Barney ; wus you troubled 'ith th' bullets ?• 

Bar. Oi wus that, seeing as how Oi was among thim continu- 
ally. Shure, and it's a heap of adventures Oi could relate of me 
own narrow escapes. 

Dick. Well, I don't know whether I could or not. I wus there 
so long that I kinder git things mixed up. I guess a nine months 1 
man could beat me all holler. Seems t' me as ef I do recollect o' 
runnin' in my fust battle, an' th' way I made th' dust fly ud have 
done credit t' th' skedadlers at Bulls Run. Durned cu'rus what 
cattle men are when they git frightened, ain't it? 

Bar. Begorra ! it shows the bastely nature of which they are 
composed. 

Dick. Ye see, I wasn't feelin' very heroic when the battle fust 
opened, so when some o' th' boys who felt jest th' same way com- 
menced t' take leg bail, I felt jest like jinin' th' crowd. Purty soon 
a colonel o' some regiment who stood alongside o' me dropped his 
sword, an' jined in 'ith th' procesh. Thinkin' as how he had for- 
gotten t' take it, an' thet it ud be no more nor soldierly t' return it, 
I picked it up an' started in pursuit. 

Bar. And did yeez catch him? 

Dick. Well, sir, it beat th' Dutch how thet colonel did run. I 
gained on him, though, an' got jest near enough t' tap him on th' 
shoulder 'ith th' sword, t' let him know I hed it, ye see, when away 
he went et an extry spurt thet in two seconds left me four rods 
behind. 

Bar. And yeez lost him afther all? 

Dick. Not by a jugful ! I began t' let out th' stitches, an' it 
wasn't long afore I slewed up t' him agin, an' gave him another tap 
'ith th' sword. Jewhitaker ! it jest lifted him like a galvanic shock. 
He cleared fifteen feet at a bound, an' his hair rose right up as ef 
he thought th' devil wus ahind him. T' me th' devil seemed one 
notch furder back ; an' thet wus th' reason, I s'pose, thet I began t' 
tickle his heels agin, an' shorten th' distance atween us. 

Bar. And did yeez catch him then? 

Dick. Well, arter th' fust half mile I settled right down t' busi- 



48 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 

ness, an' began V make full schedule time. It seemed t 1 me as 
ef th 1 faster I ran th' more I wus bein' pursued, an' I reckon th' 
colonel felt jest th 1 same way. When I hed passed him by about 
a hair's breadth, I says t' th 1 colonel, says I, "Colonel, I kinder 
reckoned you'd forgotten this sword, an' so brought it along. 
Seem' as how I'm purty well started, I'll hurry right on t 1 camp an 1 
git th' tea water well t' bilin' by th' time you git there." 

Bar. {excited}. And did the ould colonel take the sword? 

Dick. He didn't take it exactly, but made a lunge fer my coat 
tail, an' missed it by jest th 1 skin of his teeth. Th' look he gave 
me as I swung out o' sight around a corner in th' main road '11 
haunt me t 1 my dyin 1 day. 

Bar. Did yeez iver see the ould colonel afther that? . 

Dick. Two days after thet eventful race, he came saunterin' 
into camp where I wus stationed fer repairs, an' what d'ye s'pose 
he asked ? 

Bar. Well, Oi'm thinking he asked yeez for the sword. 

Dick. Wrong again. He asked ef thet tea water wus ready 
for use. 

Bar. Begorra ! he had the cheek of a government mule. 
Cheek? Sure, and did yeez iver know Jack Turner? Well, sor, 
Oi was driving a loaded bomb wagon wan day, wid the fuses to 'em 
all sthanding on end, whin a lighted wan came over from the 
rebels and draaped right into their midst. Wid the prisence of 
moind Oi ginerally possess in such cases, Oi snatched up a pail of 
wather — 

Dick. Look a-here, Barney, how could you snatch up a pail o* 
water when you wus a-drivin' a bomb wagon ? 

Bar. Are yeez telling this story? 

Dick. Drive ahead, Barney, an' I'll not interfere agin. 

Bar. Oi'll not say another dommed word ! If yeez are more 
acquainted wid the story thin meself, yeez kin tell it. 

{Enter from l. 3 e. Captain Bos worth, Parson, Frank 
Bosworth, Gratia, Mrs. Nogood, and soldiers. The soldiers 
pass to l. c. a?id R. c. back.} 

Bos. {coming front with Frank and Parson. Gratia and 
Mrs. Nogood near l. i e.). Egad! to know you marched into 
Richmond among the first is glorious. I would have given pounds 
— pounds, sir, to have been among the number. 

Frank. To those who participated in the event, it will be a 
day long to be remembered. It signified the end of the war. To 
the tired and worn-out soldiers it betokened home and friends and 
the association of loved ones. 

Gratia. And they are more to be preferred than the associations 
of the camp, arn't they, Frank? The scene I witnessed on my par- 
ticular visit will haunt me to my dying day. 

Par. Then the food was so far from being nutritious. To me 



THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 49 

it was positively indigestible. In fact, what they called hard tack 
was hard tack in every sense of the word. 

Bos. Pooh! pooh! what do you expect in the army — trout? 
Such luxuries are seldom furnished. The soldier should be satis- 
fied with what he can get. 

Dick, (who has seated himself upon bench r. c. when others en- 
tered}. Durned ef your opinion with relation t' army fodder hain't 
hed a collapse. Makes a difference, I reckon, whether you are after 
volunteers, or have got through with 'em. Why, I wern't in camp 
four weeks afore I'd have given ten dollars t'seen a good fat chicken 
come sailin' in t 1 camp. 

Bar. Begorra ! yeez had thim, too, whin foraging was plenty, 
and a picket could be passed. 

Dick. Well, ef I did I wasn't put in a guard-house fer doin' it. 

Bar. (aside). Shure, and he intended that for me. 

Frank. The incidents of camp life are never forgotten. There 
is not a soldier but what in after years will look back to them with 
pleasure. 

Bos. Egad ! won't they ? I know how it is myself. I couldn't 
forget them if I would; and I wouldn't if I could. The war to an 
old soldier is full of strange reminiscences. 

Mrs. N. Ah, yes ; and to those wives and mothers who furnish 
the soldiers, those reminiscences are far from being pleasant. 
Would to Heaven that to me they were but the vagaries of sleep, 
from which I might soon awaken. 

Par. It is quite natural, Mrs. Nogood, that you should look upon 
war with many regrets. Still, not altogether with regrets, either. 
The boy whom you sacrificed for your country contained all the 
attributes of a noble soldier. He died for a noble cause. This 
should fill you with a sense of conscious pride, even though his loss 
is well nigh unbearable. 

Mrs. N. Ah ! but the manner of his death. Think of the terri- 
ble suffering he must have endured ! 

Frank. Yes ; and all for the sake of my freedom. Accepting 
the liberty that was his by right has always filled me with a sense 
of guilt ; but he would insist upon it. Knowing him as I did, I 
knew he would never leave that prison while one of Company G 
remained. Oh ! would that he had lived, that I might have given 
him his reward ! 

Gratia. We will always cherish his name with the fondest 
memories so long as life shall last. 

Bos. Egad ! and his works too. I refused him as a volunteer, 
but his name shall long be remembered. (Points to flag arranged 
above canopied seat.) There it is. " Colonel Nogood, the hero of 
Company G." {Perceives Amasa.) Damme ! here is a recruit. 

(All look to Amasa. Bosworth and Parson pass to c. r., and 
Frank, Gratia, andMRS. Nogood to c. l.) 



50 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 

Dick., Yes ; he wus here when I came in. He looks like a haff- 
starved soldier; but he says he ain't one, an 1 hain't been one. My 
generosity wus jest a-goin 1 t 1 invite him t 1 hash as you came in an 1 
spiled it. 

Amasa. I am no beggar, comrades. My wants have been sup- 
plied, and by men like you, in regulation suits. 'Tis a poor tramp 
with whom an American soldier will not divide rations. 

Bos. Gad ! they would split the last penny; but what are you 
tramping for? You should be in better business. 

Amasa. Unavoidable circumstances have placed me in the con- 
dition in which I am situated. 

Bos. Yes ; the same old story. Downfall the result of misfor- 
tune or bodily infirmities. Impossible to have been a soldier on 
account of your health. 

Amasa. To the contrary, sir, I was in perfect health. 

Bos. Egad ! why didn't you enlist, then? 

Amasa. I offered my services, and was refused. 

Bos. Pooh ! pooh ! men in perfect health seldom meet with that 
reception. On what excuses were you refused? 

Amasa. I was deformed. {General movement. Frank and 
Mrs. Nogood start, and look at Amasa critically.') 

Bos. {after a pause). Oh — ah! 1 Yes. 

Par. I declare, Bosworth, what a singular coincidence ! 

Bos. {turning away). Damme ! if it isn't. 

Frank. Look here, my man, where is your place of residence? 

Amasa {slowly). That is yet to be determined. 

Frank. Another thing. Your language is not that of a vagrant. 
Do you claim to make it a profession ? 

Amasa. Not as a regular profession, no. 

Frank. And by your own acknowledgment you are not a 
soldier. Still, in opposition to your general appearance, you sup- 
port a soldierly bearing. 

Amasa. We imitate those whom we respect and acknowledge 
superior to ourselves. 

Frank. What is your name ? 

Amasa. It would be no good if I should tell you. It better be 
left untold. 

Bar. {aside). Begorra ! there's a point about that, if the Nogood 
it belonged to wasn't dead. 

Frank {turning to Gratia) . Alas ! I had hoped — But, there ; 
the idea is too preposterous. I will not mention it. 

Gratia. There is that about his language that impresses me 
deeply. 

Dick. He told me afore you came in that he'd been in th' South. 
Not only among the Federals, but thet he'd been galivantin' among 
the Confederates too. Now I reckon he couldn't have been waltz- 
in' around in thet section much 'ithout seein' somethin', an' I'd 
kinder like t' ask what ? 

Amasa. I will answer it. I have seen the barbarous side of 



THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 5 I 

•war. Have suffered with those who suffered, and starved with 
those who starved. Have lived in rot, and filth, and fetid vapors, 
wherein men have prayed and.fought and cursed and died. Have 
seen strong men shrink and shrivel up, and die by lingering degrees, 
while I lived, a phantom shadow of my former self. Seen home- 
sickness so intense that men have died with that alone. The hellish 
death line, which desperate men, made so through tortures too in- 
tense to bear, have crossed and welcomed death with joy. I have 
seen all this, and more. (Clasping his brow.) My God! enough 
to drive me wild, and haunt me with nightmares while life shall last. 

Frank (starting forward) . Man ! in but one place on God's foot- 
stool could those things have happened. Nowhere but in the 
prisons of the South. 

Amasa. Well ! I have been there. 

Frank. A prisoner? 

Amasa. Yes. 

Frank (grasping him by the shoulder). Man! stand up. 
(Amasa rises with difficulty. Frank turns him around, and per- 
ceives his humped back.) My God ! the grave has yielded up its 
dead. This weak, tottering, emaciated skeleton is — 

Amasa. Amasa Nogood. (All rush around him, tittering ex- 
clamations?) 

Frank (clasping him in his arms and weeping). Oho-oho, 
my dear boy, my dearest friend, my saviour. O Amasa ! Amasa ! 

Mrs. N. (rushing to his side and embracing him). Heaven be 
praised ! You are indeed my boy. 

Frank. Oh, you are Amasa, aren't you ? Tell me that you are 
no ghost ! 

Amasa. I am Amasa, what there is left of me. But do not 
come near me. Let me change my clothes and wash — 

Frank. Wash be hanged ! I'll hold you, clean or dirty. Ha ! 
ha ! what do I care for your dirt and rags now ? 

Bar. (who has been looking on in amazement). Well, Til be 
dommed ! 

Bos. (dancing around stage front). Egad ! this is a resurrection. 
'Tis the grandest sequel to the greatest tragedy I ever witnessed. 

Par. (trying to keep up with Bosworth). I declare ! it's a per- 
fect romance. 

Bos. (slapping Parson upon back). Don't it make your blood 
boil, parson ? Don't it make you feel young again ? 

Par. (imitating Bosworth with expressions of delight) . It does, 
my dear Bosworth, it certainly does. I declare ! it really makes me 
feel kittenish. (Trying to slap Bosworth upon back.) 

Bos. (rushing to Amasa) . Make way here ! (Soldiers fall 
back.) Give me a chance at the boy. (Catches hold of Amasa 
with the rest.) I want to tell him that I'm a fool. A confounded 
old fool ! 

Par. (following Bosworth). Yes; make way here. A con- 
summate old fool. (Gets hold of Amasa.) 



52 THE PRIDE OF COMPANY G. 

Bos. I want to tell him that I'll reward him for my doggasted 
foolishness if it takes a leg. 

Par. (shouting). Yes; we'll reward him for our foolishness if 
it takes both of his legs. * 

Dick. Convey him t 1 his throne. Enfold him 'ith th' flag he 
so nobly defended. 'Tis th' best uniform he ever wore, an' th' 
most honored. I'd help ef I hed thet other pesky arm. 

Bos. Egad ! you're a hero yourself. 

(Soldiers shout " To his throne / To his throne / " and rush for- 
ward. MRS. Nogood steps back. Soldiers lift Amasa up bodily, 
and place him upon canopied seat c. Frank tears down the flag 
containing the emblem, and folds it around Amasa. Stepping 
back he draws his sword and salutes him.) 

Frank. Colonel Nogood, I salute you. (Salutes.) We ar- 
ranged this to the honor of a dead hero. Thank God ! we now 
christen it with a live one. Comrades, three cheers for Colonel 
Nogood, the hero of Company G. (All cheer.) 

Amasa (rising overcome). This is too much. I — I — I'm 
dumb. I'm dumb. All I can say is, God bless you! (Sinks upon 
seat.) 

Bos. That's enough ! Egad ! we want nothing better. Soldiers, 
sing. Give us the star spangled banner. 

Song : ' ' Star Spangled Banner." 

Position of Characters. 

Canopied seat. 

Amasa. 

Bosworth. Frank. 

Parson. Gratia. 

Soldiers. Mrs. N. 

Bridget. Soldiers. 

Barney. Dickson. 

R. L. 

SLOW CURTAIN. — TABLEAU. 



A NEW PLAY FOR FEMALE CHARACTERS. 

A Companion to "REBECCA'S TRIUMPH." 

ANITA'S TRIAL; 

Or, Our Girls in Camp. 

By Esther B. Tiffany, author of "A Rice Pudding," "That Patrick," 
"Young Mr. Pritchard," etc. 

Price, ------- 35 cents. 

This is a bright and sparkling comedy in three acts, for eleven 
female characters. Its story is entertaining, and its dialogue dis- 
tinguished by this author's delicate humorous touch. One scene only 
is necessary for the three acts — a camp in the woods, easily arranged. 
The- dresses are simple and picturesque camping costumes. The enor- 
mous success of "Rebecca's Triumph " has created a demand for this 
sort of piece, to meet which we confidently present "Anita's Trial," 
in which is solved, with no less success than in its predecessor, the 
difficult problem of constructing a play of strong human interest with- 
out the assistance of male characters. 



TiE n HRQNOTHANATQLETRQ N ; 

OR, OLD TIMES MADE NEW. 

An entertainment in one act for sixteen girls, written for the Class Day 
Exercises at Dana Hall School, Wellesley, Mass., by two members 
of the Class of 'Sy and first performed before members of the school 
and their friends, June iS, 1887, and later at Ellsworth, Maine, 
April 6, 1 888. 



Price, 



THE PEAK SISTERS. 

humorous entertainment for young ladies. Arranged by Mary B. 
Horne. Any number of ladies may take part, but seven only are 
necessary. No scenery; costumes very simple. This laughable 
trifle meets with invariable success wherever performed. 

Price, -------15 cents. 



THE BOOK OF DRILLS. 

A group of entertainments for female characters for stage or floor per- 
formance, by Mary B. Horne, the author of " The Peak Sisters," etc. 

Price, -------30 cents. 

WALTER R BAKER & CO,, Pnlsners, 23 Winter St. Boston. 



AN ENTIRE NOVE1 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

■ min 

THE GREAT MC™1™*" 

Dime Sho 




AN ENTERTAINMENT IN ONE SCENE. 



By MARY B. HORNE, 

Author of "The Peak Sisters," PjftOF. Baxter's Great Invention, 

"The Book of Prills," "The Carnival of Days," 

"Plantation Bitters," Etc. 



Nine male, seven female characters. Costumes simple; scenery an ordinary 
interior, or may be dispensed with altogether. Plays from half an hour upward, 
according to the number and character of additional specialties introduced. 
Printed exactly as lirst performed by the Unity Club, Watertown, Mass., on 
Friday evening, February 5, 1891'. 



This most amusing entertainment is a burlesque of the ordinary "dime- 
mr.seuni," so-called, but is entirely devoid of the vulgarity of its original, and 
perfectly adapted to church or home performance. The characters are, save the 
lecturer and her assistant, a wonderful collection of "freaks" of nature (some- 
what assisted by art) who sing, dance or recite, according to their special 
abilities, in illustration of the explanatory lectu e. It is most elastic in its 
requirements, can be played on any stage or platform, with or without scenery, 
and with a greater or smaller number of characters, according to taste or 
necessity. It can be made uproariously funny, and is in character as well as fact 

A SEQUEL TO THE PEAK SISTERS. 



Price, 



15 Cents. 



SYNOPSIS. 

SCENE.— The exhibition hall of Sister Keziah's Show. Sistc 1 Keziah's intro- 
ductory lecture. Johnathan, the bashful assistant. Introductory hymn. 
Introduction of the "freaks." Daniel McGinty redivirus. Daniel's song 
LUCIA Z\RATE, the celebrated Mexican dwarf. Kioto, the shortest man 
alive, not Jinaiieial'y. The wonderful Mermaid. The Mermaid's song. 
Cassiis Win IE, the ossified boy. A "rocky" recitation. Kallili', the 
only specimen of his kind in captivity; illustrated by cuts. SIGN OK Galassj, 
the" celebrated Glass Eater. Galassi'sinj>s. Allegro Penseroso, the won- 
derful two-headed girl;. not -to be confounded with the. more common two- 
fnced girl. Two ways of eating a pickle. Ida and Ione. the Grecian 
maidens. Raphael Tintoret, the blind painter, who paints blinds in full 
view of the audie ce. Ah Chin and \Vi\ LUNG, the Chinese twins, ex- 
t remely well connected from birth. " The Land of Tea." Ka-foOZL, 
the Turkish vocalist. Grand finale and curtain. 



